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JERUSALEM 


BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


CHRIST  LEGENDS 

(Trans,  from  Swedish  by  Velma  Stoanston  Howard) 

FURTHER  ADVENTURES  OF  NILS 

(Trans,  from  Swedish  by  Velma  Swanston  Howard) 

WONDERFUL  ADVENTURES  OF  NILS 

(Trans,  from  Swedish  by  Velma  Swanston  Howard} 

GIRL  FROM  THE  MARSH  CROFT 

(Trans,  from  Swedish  by  Velma  Swanston  Howard) 

LEGEND  OF  THE  SACRED  IMAGE 

(Trans,  from  Swedish  by  Velma  Swanston  Howard) 

MIRACLES  OF  ANTICHRIST 

(Trans,  from  Swedish  by  Pauline  Bancroft  Flock) 

STORY  OF  GO'STA  BERLING 

(Trans,  from  Swedish  by  Pauline  Bancroft  Flach) 


JERUSALEM 


A  Novel 


FROM   THE  SWEDISH  OF 

SELMA  LAGERLOF 


TRANSLATED  BY 

VELMA  SWANSTON  HOWARD 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

HENRY  GODDARD  LEACH 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1915 


Copyright,  1915,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE    &   COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 
translation  into  foreign  languages 


CONTENTS 

Introduction vii 

BOOK  ONE 

PAGE 

The  Ingmarssons 3 

BOOK  TWO 

At  the  Schoolmaster's 49 

"And  They  Saw  Heaven  Open" 65 

Karin,  Daughter  of  Ingmar 77 

In  Zion 109 

The  Wild  Hunt 123 

Hellgum 149 

The  New  Way 175 

BOOK  THREE 

The  Loss  of  "I/  Univers" 209 

Hellgum's  Letter 229 

The  Big  Log 249 

The  Ingmar  Farm 255 

Hok  Matts  Ericsson 263 

The  Auction 273 

Gertrude 295 

The  Dean's  Widow 319 

The  Departure  of  the  Pilgrims 327 


INTRODUCTION 

As  YET  the  only  woman  winner  of  the  Nobel  Prize  for 
Literature,  the  prize  awarded  to  Kipling,  Maeterlinck,  and 
Hauptmann,  is  the  Swedish  author  of  this  book,  "Jerusa- 
lem." The  Swedish  Academy,  in  recognizing  Miss  Selma 
Lagerlof,  declared  that  they  did  so  "for  reason  of  the 
noble  idealism,  the  wealth  of  imagination,  the  soulful 
quality  of  style,  which  characterize  her  works."  Five 
years  later,  in  1914,  that  august  body  elected  Doctor 
Lagerlof  into  their  fellowship,  and  she  is  thus  the  only 
woman  among  those  eighteen  "immortals." 

What  is  the  secret  of  the  power  that  has  made  Miss 
Lagerlof  an  author  acknowledged  not  alone  as  a  classic  in 
the  schools  but  also  as  the  most  popular  and  generally 
beloved  writer  in  Scandinavia?  She  entered  Swedish 
literature  at  a  period  when  the  cold  gray  star  of  realism 
was  in  the  ascendant,  when  the  trenchant  pen  of  Strind- 
berg  had  swept  away  the  cobwebs  of  unreality,  and  people 
were  accustomed  to  plays  and  novels  almost  brutal  in  their 
frankness.  Wrapped  in  the  mantle  of  a  latter-day  roman- 
ticism, her  soul  filled  with  idealism,  on  the  one  hand  she 
transformed  the  crisp  actualities  of  human  experience  by 
throwing  about  them  the  glamour  of  the  unknown,  and  on 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

the  other  hand  gave  to  the  unreal — to  folk  tale  and  fairy 
lore  and  local  superstition — the  effectiveness  of  convincing 
fact.  "  Reading  Selma  Lagerlof,"  says  the  Swedish  com- 
poser, Hugo  Alfven,  "  is  like  sitting  in  the  dusk  of  a  Spanish 
cathedral  .  .  .  afterward  one  does  not  know  whether 
what  he  has  seen  was  dream  or  reality,  but  certainly  he  has 
been  on  holy  ground."  The  average  mind,  whether  Swed- 
ish or  Anglo-Saxon,  soon  wearies  of  heartless  preciseness  in 
literature  and  welcomes  an  idealism  as  wholesome  as  that 
of  Miss  Lagerlof.  Furthermore,  the  Swedish  authoress 
attracts  her  readers  by  a  diction  unique  unto  herself,  as 
singular  as  the  English  sentences  of  Charles  Lamb.  Her 
style  may  be  described  as  prose  rhapsody  held  in  restraint, 
at  times  passionately  breaking  its  bonds. 

Although  Miss  Lagerlof  has  not  been  without  her  share 
of  life's  perplexities  and  of  contact  with  her  fellowmen,  it 
is  by  intuition  that  she  works  rather  than  by  experience. 
Otherwise,  she  could  not  have  depicted  in  her  books  such  a 
multitude  of  characters  from  all  parts  of  Europe.  She 
sees  character  with  woman's  warm  and  delicate  sympathy 
and  with  the  clear  vision  of  childhood.  "  Selma  Lagerlof," 
declared  the  Swedish  critic,  Oscar  Levertin,  "has  the  eyes 
of  a  child  and  the  heart  of  a  child."  This  nai'vite  is  re- 
sponsible for  the  simplicity  of  her  character  types.  Deep 
and  sure  they  may  be,  but  never  too  complex  for  the  reader 
to  comprehend.  The  more  varied  characters — as  the 
critic  Johan  Mortensen  has  pointed  out — like  Hellgum, 
the  mystic  in  "Jerusalem,"  are  merely  indicated  and 
shadowy.  How  unlike  Ibsen!  Selma  Lagerlof  takes  her 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

delight,  not  in  developing  the  psychology  of  the  unusual, 
but  in  analyzing  the  motives  and  emotions  of  the  normal 
mind.  This  accounts  for  the  comforting  feeling  of  satis- 
faction and  familiarity  which  comes  over  one  reading  the 
chronicles  of  events  so  exceptionable  as  those  which  occur 
in  "Jerusalem." 

In  one  of  her  books,  "The  Wonderful  Adventures  of 
Nils,"  Miss  Lagerlof  has  sketched  the  national  character  of 
the  Swedish  people  in  reference  to  the  various  landscapes 
visited  by  the  wild  goose  in  its  flight.  In  another  romance, 
"Gosta  Berling,"  she  has  interpreted  the  life  of  the  province 
of  Vermland,  where  she  herself  was  born  on  a  farmstead 
in  1858.  A  love  of  starlight,  violins,  and  dancing,  a  tem- 
perament easily  provoked  to  a  laughing  abandon  of  life's 
tragedy  characterizes  the  folk  of  Vermland  and  the  im- 
pecunious gentry  who  live  in  its  modest  manor  halls. 
It  is  a  different  folk  to  whom  one  is  introduced  in  "Jeru- 
salem," the  people  of  Dalecarlia,  the  province  of  Miss 
Lagerlof's  adopted  home.  They,  too,  have  their  dancing 
festivals  at  Midsummer  Eve,  and  their  dress  is  the  most 
gorgeous  in  Sweden,  but  one  thinks  of  them  rather  as  a 
serious  and  solid  community  given  to  the  plow  and  con- 
servative habits  of  thought.  They  were  good  Catholics 
once;  now  they  are  stalwart  defenders  of  Lutheranism,  a 
community  not  easily  persuaded  but,  once  aroused,  reso- 
lute to  act  and  carry  through  to  the  uttermost.  One 
thinks  of  them  as  the  people  who  at  first  gave  a  deaf  ear 
to  Gustaf  Vasa's  appeal  to  drive  out  the  Danes,  but  who 
eventually  followed  him  shoulder  to  shoulder  through  the 


x  INTRODUCTION 

very  gates  of  Stockholm,  to  help  him  lay  the  foundations 
of  modern  Sweden.  Titles  of  nobility  have  never  pros- 
pered in  Dalecarlia;  these  stalwart  landed  peasants  are  a 
nobility  unto  themselves.  The  Swedish  people  regard 
their  Dalecarlians  as  a  reserve  upon  whom  to  draw  in  times 
of  national  crisis. 

"Jerusalem"  begins  with  the  history  of  a  wealthy  and 
powerful  farmer  family,  the  Ingmarssons  of  Ingmar  Farm, 
and  develops  to  include  the  whole  parish  life  with  its  varied 
farmer  types,  its  pastor,  schoolmaster,  shopkeeper,  and 
innkeeper.  The  romance  portrays  the  religious  revival 
introduced  by  a  practical  mystic  from  Chicago  which  leads 
many  families  to  sell  their  ancestral  homesteads  and — 
in  the  last  chapter  of  this  volume — to  emigrate  in  a  body 
to  the  Holy  Land. 

Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction.  "Jerusalem"  is  founded 
upon  the  historic  event  of  a  religious  pilgrimage  from 
Dalecarlia  in  the  last  century.  The  writer  of  this  intro- 
duction had  opportunity  to  confirm  this  fact  some  years 
ago  when  he  visited  the  parish  in  question,  and  saw  the 
abandoned  farmsteads  as  well  as  homes  to  which  some  of 
the  Jerusalem-farers  had  returned.  And  more  than  this, 
I  had  an  experience  of  my  own  which  seemed  to  reflect  this 
spirit  of  religious  ecstasy.  On  my  way  to  the  inn  toward 
midnight  I  met  a  cyclist  wearing  a  blue  jersey,  and  on  the 
breast,  instead  of  a  college  letter,  was  woven  a  yellow  cross. 
On  meeting  me  the  cyclist  dismounted  and  insisted  on 
showing  me  the  way.  When  we  came  to  the  inn  I  offered 
him  a  krona.  My  guide  smiled  as  though  he  was  possessed 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

by  a  beatific  vision.  "No!  I  will  not  take  the  money, 
but  the  gentleman  will  buy  my  bicycle!"  As  I  expressed 
my  astonishment  at  this  request,  he  smiled  again  confi- 
dently and  replied.  "In  a  vision  last  night  the  Lord  ap- 
peared unto  me  and  said  that  I  should  meet  at  midnight  a 
stranger  at  the  cross-roads  speaking  an  unknown  tongue 
and  'the  stranger  will  buy  thy  bicycle!" 

The  novel  is  opened  by  that  favourite  device  of  Selma 
Lagerlof,  the  monologue,  through  which  she  pries  into  the 
very  soul  of  her  characters,  in  this  case  Ingmar,  son  of 
Ingmar,  of  Ingmar  Farm.  Ingmar's  monologue  at  the 
plow  is  a  subtle  portrayal  of  an  heroic  battle  between  the 
forces  of  conscience  and  desire.  Although  this  prelude 
may  be  too  subjective  and  involved  to  be  readily  digested 
by  readers  unfamiliar  with  the  Swedish  author's  method, 
they  will  soon  follow  with  intent  interest  into  those  pages 
that  describe  how  Ingmar  met  at  the  prison  door  the  girl 
for  whose  infanticide  he  was  ethically  responsible.  He 
brings  her  back  apparently  to  face  disgrace  and  to  blot  the 
fair  scutcheon  of  the  Ingmarssons,  but  actually  to  earn  the 
respect  of  the  whole  community  voiced  in  the  declaration 
of  the  Dean:  "Now,  Mother  Martha,  you  can  be  proud  of 
Ingmar!  It's  plain  now  he  belongs  to  the  old  stock;  so  we 
must  begin  to  call  him  'Big  Ingmar." 

In  the  course  of  the  book  we  are  introduced  to  two  gen- 
erations of  Ingmars,  and  their  love  stories  are  quite  as 
compelling  as  the  religious  motives  of  the  book.  Forever 
unforgettable  is  the  scene  of  the  auction  where  Ingmar's 
son  renounces  his  beloved  Gertrude  and  betroths  himself 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

to  another  in  order  to  keep  the  old  estate  from  passing  out 
of  the  hands  of  the  Ingmars.  Thus  both  of  these  heroes 
in  our  eyes  "play  yellow."  On  the  other  hand  they  have 
our  sympathy,  and  the  reader  is  tossed  about  by  the  alter- 
nate undertow  of  the  strong  currents  which  control  the 
conduct  of  this  farming  folk.  Sometimes  they  obey  only 
their  own  unerring  instincts,  as  in  that  vivid  situation  of 
the  shy,  departing  suitor  when  Karin  Ingmarsson  suddenly 
breaks  through  convention  and  publicly  over  the  coffee 
cups  declares  herself  betrothed.  The  book  is  a  succession 
of  these  brilliantly  portrayed  situations  that  clutch  at  the 
heartstrings — the  meetings  in  the  mission  house,  the  recon- 
ciliation scene  when  Ingmar's  battered  watch  is  handed  to 
the  man  he  felt  on  his  deathbed  he  had  wronged,  the  dance 
on  the  night  of  the  "wild  hunt,"  the  shipwreck,  Gertrude's 
renunciation  of  her  lover  for  her  religion,  the  brother  who 
buys  the  old  farmstead  so  that  his  brother's  wife  may  have 
a  home  if  she  should  ever  return  from  the  Holy  Land.  As 
for  the  closing  pages  that  describe  the  departure  of  the 
Jerusalem-farers,  they  are  difficult  to  read  aloud  without  a 
sob  and  a  lump  in  the  throat. 

The  underlying  spiritual  action  of  "Jerusalem"  is  the 
conflict  of  idealism  with  that  impulse  which  is  deep  rooted 
in  the  rural  communities  of  the  old  world,  the  love  of  home 
and  the  home  soil.  It  is  a  virtue  unfortunately  too  dimly 
appreciated  in  restless  America,  though  felt  in  some  meas- 
ure in  the  old  communities  of  Massachusetts  and  Virginia, 
and  Quaker  homesteads  near  Philadelphia.  Among  the 
peasant  aristocracy  of  Dalecarlia  attachment  to  the  home- 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

stead  is  life  itself.  In  "Jerusalem"  this  emotion  is  pitted 
on  the  one  hand  against  religion,  on  the  other  against  love. 
Hearts  are  broken  in  the  struggle  which  permits  Karin  to 
sacrifice  the  Ingmar  Farm  to  obey  the  inner  voice  that 
summons  her  on  her  religious  pilgrimage,  and  which  leads 
her  brother,  on  the  other  hand,  to  abandon  the  girl  of  his 
heart  and  his  life's  personal  happiness  in  order  to  win  back 
the  farm. 

The  tragic  intensity  of  "Jerusalem"  is  happily  relieved 
by  the  undercurrent  of  Miss  Lagerlof' s  sympathetic  hu- 
mour. When  she  has  almost  succeeded  in  transporting  us 
into  a  state  of  religious  fervour,  we  suddenly  catch  her 
smile  through  the  lines  and  realize  that  no  one  more  than 
she  feels  the  futility  of  fanaticism.  The  stupid  blunders 
of  humankind  do  not  escape  her;  neither  do  they  arouse 
her  contempt.  She  accepts  human  nature  as  it  is  with  a 
warm  fondness  for  all  its  types.  We  laugh  and  weep  si- 
multaneously at  the  children  of  the  departing  pilgrims, 
who  cry  out  in  vain:  "We  don't  want  to  go  to  Jerusalem; 
we  want  to  go  home." 

To  the  translator  of  "Jerusalem,"  Mrs.  Velma  Swanston 
Howard,  author  and  reader  alike  must  feel  indebted.  Mrs. 
Howard  has  already  received  generous  praise  for  her  trans- 
lation of  "Nils"  and  other  works  of  Selma  Lagerlof. 
Although  born  in  Sweden  she  has  achieved  remarkable 
mastery  of  English  diction.  As  a  friend  of  Miss  Lagerlof 
and  an  artist  she  is  enabled  herself  to  pass  through  the 
temperament  of  creation  and  to  reproduce  the  original  in 
essence  as  well  as  sufficient  verisimilitude.  Mrs.  Howard 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

is  no  mere  artisan  translator.  She  goes  over  her  page  not 
once  but  a  dozen  times,  and  the  result  is  not  a  labored 
performance,  but  a  work  of  real  art  in  strong  and  confident 
prose. 

HENRY  GODDARD  LEACH. 
Villa  Nova,  Pennsylvania. 
June  28,  1915. 


BOOK  ONE 


JERUSALEM 

THE    INGMARSSONS 


AOUNG  farmer  was  plowing  his  field  one  summer 
morning.  The  sun  shone,  the  grass  sparkled  with 
dew,  and  the  air  was  so  light  and  bracing  that 
no  words  can  describe  it.  The  horses  were  frisky  from 
the  morning  air,  and  pulled  the  plow  along  as  if  in  play. 
They  were  going  at  a  pace  quite  different  from  their  usual 
gait;  the  man  had  fairly  to  run  to  keep  up  with  them. 

The  earth,  as  it  was  turned  by  the  plow,  lay  black,  and 
shone  with  moisture  and  fatness,  and  the  man  at  the 
plow  was  happy  in  the  thought  of  soon  being  able  to  sow 
his  rye.  "Why  is  it  that  I  feel  so  discouraged  at  times  and 
think  life  so  hard?"  he  wondered.  "What  more  does  one 
want  than  sunshine  and  fair  weather  to  be  as  happy  as  a 
child  of  Heaven?" 

A  long  and  rather  broad  valley,  with  stretches  of  green 
and  yellow  grain  fields,  with  mowed  clover  meadows, 
potato  patches  in  flower,  and  little  fields  of  flax  with  their 
tiny  blue  flowers,  above  which  fluttered  great  swarms  of 
white  butterflies — this  was  the  setting.  At  the  very  heart 

3 


4  JERUSALEM 

of  the  valley,  as  if  to  complete  the  picture,  lay  a  big  old- 
fashioned  farmstead,  with  many  gray  outhouses  and  a 
large  red  dwelling-house.  At  the  gables  stood  two  tall, 
spreading  pear  trees;  at  the  gate  were  a  couple  of  young 
birches;  in  the  grass-covered  yard  were  great  piles  of  fire- 
wood; and  behind  the  barn  were  several  huge  haystacks. 
The  farmhouse  rising  above  the  low  fields  was  as  pretty  a 
sight  as  a  ship,  with  masts  and  sails,  towering  above  the 
broad  surface  of  the  sea. 

The  man  at  the  plow  was  thinking:  "What  a  farm 
you've  got!  Many  well-timbered  houses,  fine  cattle 
and  horses,  and  servants  who  are  as  good  as  gold.  At 
least  you  are  as  well-to-do  as  any  one  in  these  parts,  so 
you'll  never  have  to  face  poverty. 

"But  it's  not  poverty  that  I  fear,"  he  said,  as  if  in  an- 
swer to  his  own  thought.  "I  should  be  satisfied  were  I 
only  as  good  a  man  as  my  father  or  my  father's  father. 
What  could  have  put  such  silly  nonsense  into  your  head  ?" 
he  wondered.  "And  a  moment  ago  you  were  feeling  so 
happy.  Ponder  well  this  one  thing:  in  father's  time  all 
the  neighbours  were  guided  by  him  in  all  their  under- 
takings. The  morning  he  began  haymaking  they  did  like- 
wise, and  the  day  we  started  in  to  plow  our  fallow  field  at 
the  Ingmar  Farm,  plows  were  put  in  the  earth  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  valley.  Yet  here  I've  been  plowing 
now  for  two  hours  and  more  without  any  one  having  so 
much  as  ground  a  plowshare. 

"I  believe  I  have  managed  this  farm  as  well  as  any  one 
who  has  borne  the  name  of  Ingmar  Ingmarsson,"  he 


THE  INGMARSSONS  5 

mused.  "I  can  get  more  for  my  hay  than  father  ever  got 
for  his,  and  I'm  not  satisfied  to  let  the  weed-choked  ditches 
which  crossed  the  farm  in  his  time  remain.  What's  more, 
no  one  can  say  that  I  misuse  the  woodlands  as  he  did  by 
converting  them  into  burn-beaten  land. 

"There  are  times  when  all  this  seems  hard  to  bear,"  said 
the  young  man.  "I  can't  always  take  it  as  lightly  as  I  do 
to-day.  When  father  and  grandfather  lived,  folks  used  to 
say  that  the  Ingmarssons  had  been  on  earth  such  a  long 
time  that  they  must  know  what  was  pleasing  to  our  Lord. 
Therefore  the  people  fairly  begged  them  to  rule  over  the 
parish.  They  appointed  both  parson  and  sexton;  they 
determined  when  the  river  should  be  dredged,  and  where 
schools  should  be  built.  But  me  no  one  consults,  nor  have 
I  a  say  in  anything. 

"It's  wonderful,  all  the  same,  that  troubles  can  be  so 
easily  borne  on  a  morning  like  this.  I  could  almost  laugh 
at  them.  And  still  I  fear  that  matters  will  be  worse  than 
ever  for  me  in  the  fall.  If  I  should  do  what  I'm  now 
thinking  of  doing,  neither  the  parson  nor  the  judge  will 
shake  hands  with  me  when  we  meet  at  the  church  on  a 
Sunday,  which  is  something  they  have  always  done  up  to  the 
present.  I  could  never  hope  to  be  made  a  guardian  of  the 
poor,  nor  could  I  even  think  of  becoming  a  churchwarden." 

Thinking  is  never  so  easy  as  when  one  follows  a  plow 
up  a  furrow  and  down  a  furrow.  You  are  quite  alone,  and 
thereisnothingto  distract  you  but  the  crows  hopping  about 
picking  up  worms.  The  thoughts  seemed  to  come  to  the 
man  as  readily  as  if  some  one  had  whispered  them  into  his 


6  JERUSALEM 

ear.  Only  on  rare  occasions  had  he  been  able  to  think  as 
quickly  and  clearly  as  on  that  day,  and  the  thought  of  it 
gladdened  and  encouraged  him.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
he  was  giving  himself  needless  anxiety;  that  no  one  ex- 
pected him  to  plunge  headlong  into  misery.  He  thought 
that  if  his  father  were  only  living  now,  he  would  ask  his 
advice  in  this  matter,  as  he  had  always  done  in  the  old 
days  when  grave  questions  had  come  up. 

"If  I  only  knew  the  way,  I'd  go  to  him,"  he  said,  quite 
pleased  at  the  idea.  "I  wonder  what  big  Ingmar  would 
say  if  some  fine  day  I  should  come  wandering  up  to  him  ?  I 
fancy  him  settled  on  a  big  farm,  with  many  fields  and 
meadows,  a  large  house  and  barns  galore,  with  lots  of  red 
cattle  and  not  a  black  or  spotted  beast  among  them,  just 
exactly  as  he  wanted  it  when  he  was  on  earth.  Then  as  I 
step  into  the  farmhouse " 

The  plowman  suddenly  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  fur- 
row and  glanced  up,  laughing.  These  thoughts  seemed 
to  amuse  him  greatly,  and  he  was  so  carried  away  by  them 
that  he  hardly  knew  whether  or  not  he  was  still  upon 
earth.  It  seemed  to  him  that  in  a  twinkling  he  had  been 
lifted  all  the  way  up  to  his  old  father  in  heaven. 

"And  now  as  I  come  into  the  living-room,"  he  went  on, 
"I  see  many  peasants  seated  on  benches  along  the  walls. 
All  have  sandy  hair,  white  eyebrows,  and  thick  underlips. 
They  are  all  of  them  as  like  father  as  one  pea  is  like  another. 
At  the  sight  of  so  many  people  I  become  shy  and  linger  at 
the  door.  Father  sits  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  the 
instant  he  sees  me  he  says:  'Welcome,  little  Ingmar  Ing- 


THE  INGMARSSONS  7 

marsson!'  Then  father  gets  up  and  comes  over  to  me. 
'I'd  like  to  have  a  word  with  you,  father,'  I  say,  'but  there 
are  so  many  strangers  here.'  'Oh,  these  are  only  relatives!' 
says  father.  'All  these  men  have  lived  at  the  Ingmai 
Farm,  and  the  oldest  among  them  is  from  way  back  in  hea- 
then times.'  '  But  I  want  to  speak  to  you  in  private,'  I  say. 

"Then  father  looks  round  and  wonders  whether  he  ought 
to  step  into  the  next  room,  but  since  it's  just  I  he  walks  out 
into  the  kitchen  instead.  There  he  seats  himself  in  the 
fireplace,  while  I  sit  down  on  the  chopping  block. 

'You've  got  a  fine  farm  here,  father,'  I  say.  'It's  not 
so  bad,'  says  father,  'but  how's  everything  back  home?' 
'Oh,  everything  is  all  right  there;  last  year  we  got  twelve 
kroner  for  a  ton  of  hay.'  'What!'  says  father.  'Are  you 
here  to  poke  fun  at  me,  little  Ingmar  ? ' 

"'But  with  me  everything  goes  wrong!'  I  say.  'They 
are  forever  telling  me  that  you  were  as  wise  as  our  Lord 
himself,  but  no  one  cares  a  straw  for  me.'  'Aren't  you  one 
of  the  district  councillors?'  the  old  man  asks.  'I'm  not  on 
the  School  Board,  or  in  the  vestry,  nor  am  I  a  councillor.' 
'What  have  you  done  that's  wrong,  little  Ingmar?'  'Well, 
they  say  that  he  who  would  direct  the  affairs  of  others, 
must  first  show  that  he  can  manage  his  own  properly.' 

"Then  I  seem  to  see  the  old  man  lower  his  eyes  and  sit 
quietly  pondering.  In  a  little  while  he  says:  'Ingmar, 
you  ought  to  marry  some  nice  girl  who  will  make  you  a 
good  wife.'  'But  that's  exactly  what  I  can't  do,  father,'  I 
reply.  'There  is  not  a  farmer  in  the  parish,  even  among 
the  poor  and  lowly,  who  would  give  me  his  daughter.' 


8  JERUSALEM 

'Now  tell  me  straight  out  what's  back  of  all  this,  little 
Ingmar,'  says  father,  with  such  a  tender  note  in  his  voice. 

"'Well,  you  see,  father,  four  years  ago — the  same  year 
that  I  took  over  the  farm — I  was  courting  Brita  of  Berg- 
skog.'  'Let  me  see' — says  father,  'do  any  of  our  folks 
live  at  Bergskog?'  He  seems  to  have  lost  all  remembrance 
of  how  things  are  down  on  earth.  'No,  but  they  are 
well-to-do  people,  and  you  must  surely  remember  that 
Brita's  father  is  a  member  of  Parliament?'  'Yes,  of 
course;  but  you  should  have  married  one  of  our  people, 
then  you  would  have  had  a  wife  who  knew  about  our  old 
customs  and  habits.'  'You're  right,  father,  and  I  wasn't 
long  finding  that  out ! ' 

"Now  both  father  and  I  are  silent  a  moment;  then  the 
old  man  continues:  'She  was  good-looking,  of  course?' 
'Yes,'  I  reply.  'She  had  dark  hair  and  bright  eyes  and 
rosy  cheeks.  And  she  was  clever,  too,  so  that  mother  was 
pleased  with  my  choice.  All  might  have  turned  out  well, 
but,  you  see,  the  mistake  of  it  was  that  she  didn't  want  me.' 
'It's  of  no  consequence  what  such  a  slip  of  a  girl  wants  or 
doesn't  want.'  '  But  her  parents  forced  her  to  say  "yes." 
'How  do  you  know  she  was  forced?  It's  my  candid 
opinion  that  she  was  glad  to  get  a  rich  husband  like  you, 
Ingmar  Ingmarsson.' 

"Oh,  no!  She  was  anything  but  glad.  All  the  same, 
the  banns  were  published  and  the  wedding  day  was  fixed. 
So  Brita  came  down  to  the  Ingmar  Farm  to  help  mother. 
I  say,  mother  is  getting  old  and  feeble.'  '  I  see  nothing  wrong 
in  all  that,  little  Ingmar,'  says  father,  as  if  to  cheer  me  up. 


THE  INGMARSSONS  9 

"  'But  that  year  nothing  seemed  to  thrive  on  the  farm;  the 
potato  crop  was  a  failure,  and  the  cows  got  sick;  so  mother 
and  I  decided  it  was  best  to  put  off  the  wedding  a  year. 
You  see,  I  thought  it  didn't  matter  so  much  about  the 
wedding  as  long  as  the  banns  had  been  read.  But  perhaps 
it  was  old-fashioned  to  think  that  way.' 

"Had  you  chosen  one  of  our  kind  she  would  have  ex- 
ercised patience,'  says  father.  'Well,  yes/  I  say.  'I 
could  see  that  Brita  didn't  like  the  idea  of  a  postponement; 
but,  you  see,  I  felt  that  I  couldn't  afford  a  wedding  just 
then.  There  had  been  the  funeral  in  the  spring,  and  we 
didn't  want  to  take  the  money  out  of  the  bank.'  'You  did 
quite  right  in  waiting,'  says  father.  'But  I  was  a  little 
afraid  that  Brita  would  not  care  to  have  the  christening 
come  before  the  wedding.'  'One  must  first  make  sure  that 
one  has  the  means,'  says  father. 

"Every  day  Brita  became  more  and  more  quiet  and 
strange.  I  used  to  wonder  what  was  .wrong  with  her  and 
fancied  she  was  homesick,  for  she  had  always  loved  her 
home  and  her  parents.  This  will  blow  over,  I  thought, 
when  she  gets  used  to  us;  she'll  soon  feel  at  home  on  the 
Ingmar  Farm.  I  put  up  with  it  for  a  time;  then,  one  day, 
I  asked  mother  why  Brita  was  looking  so  pale  and  wild 
eyed.  Mother  said  it  was  because  she  was  with  child,  and 
that  she  would  surely  be  her  old  self  again  once  that  was 
over  with.  I  had  a  faint  suspicion  that  Brita  was  brooding 
over  my  putting  off  the  wedding,  but  I  was  afraid  to  ask 
her  about  it.  You  know,  father,  you  always  said  that  the 
year  I  married,  the  house  was  to  have  a  fresh  coat  of  red 


io  JERUSALEM 

paint.  That  year  I  simply  couldn't  afford  it.  By  next 
year  everything  will  be  all  right,  I  thought  then.' ' 

The  plowman  walked  along,  his  lips  moving  all  the 
while.  He  actually  imagined  that  he  saw  before  him  the 
face  of  his  father.  "  I  shall  have  to  lay  the  whole  case  be- 
fore the  old  man,  frankly  and  clearly,"  he  remarked  to 
himself,  "so  he  can  advise  me." 

"'Winter  had  come  and  gone,  yet  nothing  was  changed. 
I  felt  at  times  that  if  Brita  were  to  keep  on  being 
unhappy  I  might  better  give  her  up  and  send  her  home. 
However,  it  was  too  late  to  think  of  that.  Then,  one 
evening,  early  in  May,  we  discovered  that  she  had  quietly 
slipped  away.  We  searched  for  her  all  through  the  night, 
and  in  the  morning  one  of  the  housemaids  found  her.' 

"I  find  it  hard  now  to  continue,  and  take  refuge  in 
silence.  Then  father  exclaims:  'In  God's  name,  she 
wasn't  dead,  was  she?'  'No,  not  she,'  I  say,  and  father 
notes  the  tremor  in  my  voice.  'Was  the  child  born?' 
asks  father.  'Yes,'  I  reply,  'and  she  had  strangled  it.  It 
was  lying  dead  beside  her.'  'But  she  couldn't  have  been 
in  her  right  mind.'  'Oh,  she  knew  well  enough  what  she 
was  about!'  I  say.  'She  did  it  to  get  even  with  me  for 
forcing  myself  upon  her.  Still  she  would  never  have  done 
this  thing  had  I  married  her.  She  said  she  had  been 
thinking  that  since  I  did  not  want  my  child  honourably 
born,  I  should  have  no  child.'  Father  is  dumb  with  grief, 
but  by  and  by  he  says  to  me:  'Would  you  have  been  glad 
of  the  child,  little  Ingmar?'  'Yes,'  I  answer.  'Poor  boy! 
It's  a  shame  that  you  should  have  fallen  in  with  a  bad 


THE  INGMARSSONS  n 

woman!  She  is  in  prison,  of  course/  says  father.  'She 
was  sent  up  for  three  years.'  'And  it's  because  of  this 
that  no  man  will  let  you  marry  a  daughter  of  his?'  'Yes, 
but  I  haven't  asked  any  one,  either.'  'And  this  is  why  you 
have  no  standing  in  the  parish  ? '  'They  all  think  it  ought 
not  to  have  gone  that  way  for  Brita.  Folks  say  that  if  I 
had  been  a  sensible  man,  like  yourself,  I  would  have  talked 
to  her  and  found  out  what  was  troubling  her.'  'It's  not 
so  easy  for  a  man  to  understand  a  bad  woman!'  says 
father.  'No,  father,  Brita  was  not  bad,  but  she  was  a 
proud  one!'  'It  comes  to  the  same  thing,'  says  father. 
"Now  that  father  seems  to  side  with  me,  I  say:  'There 
are  many  who  think  I  should  have  managed  it  in  such  a 
way  that  no  one  would  have  known  but  that  the  child  was 
born  dead.'  'Why  shouldn't  she  take  her  punishment?' 
says  father.  'They  say  if  this  had  happened  in  your  time, 
you  would  have  made  the  servant  who  found  her  keep  her 
tongue  in  her  head  so  that  nothing  could  have  leaked  out.' 
'And  in  that  case  would  you  have  married  her?'  'Why 
then  there  would  have  been  no  need  of  my  marrying  her. 
I  could  have  sent  her  back  to  her  parents  in  a  week  or  so  and 
had  the  banns  annulled,  on  the  grounds  that  she  was  not 
happy  with  us.'  'That's  all  very  well,  but  no  one  can  expect 
a  young  chap  like  you  to  have  an  old  man's  head  on  him/ 
'The  whole  parish  thinks  that  I  behaved  badly  toward 
Brita.'  'She  has  done  worse  in  bringing  disgrace  upon 
honest  folk.'  'But  I  made  her  take  me.'  'She  ought  to 
be  mighty  glad  of  it,'  says  father.  '  But,  father,  don't  you 
think  it  is  my  fault  her  being  in  prison?'  'She  put  her- 


12  JERUSALEM 

self  there,  I'm  thinking.'  Then  I  get  up  and  say  very 
slowly:  'So  you  don't  think,  father,  that  I  have  to  do 
anything  for  her  when  she  comes  out  in  the  fall?'  'What 
should  you  do?  Marry  her?'  'That's  just  what  I  ought 
to  do.'  Father  looks  at  me  a  moment,  then  asks:  'Do 
you  love  her?'  'No!  She  has  killed  my  love.'  Father 
closes  his  eyes  and  begins  to  meditate.  'You  see,  father, 
I  can't  get  away  from  this:  that  I  have  brought  misfor- 
tune upon  some  one.' 

"The  old  man  sits  quite  still  and  does  not  answer. 

"'The  last  time  I  saw  her  was  in  the  courtroom.  Then 
she  was  so  gentle,  and  longed  so  for  her  child.  Not  one 
harsh  word  did  she  say  against  me.  She  took  all  the  blame 
to  herself.  Many  in  that  courtroom  were  moved  to  tears, 
and  the  judge  himself  had  to  swallow  hard.  He  didn't 
give  her  more  than  three  years,  either.' 

"  But  father  does  not  say  a  word. 

"It  will  be  hard  for  her  when  fall  comes,  and  she's  sent 
home.  They  won't  be  glad  to  have  her  again  at  Bergs- 
kog.  Her  folks  all  feel  that  she  has  brought  shame  upon 
them,  and  they're  pretty  sure  to  let  her  know  it,  too!  There 
will  be  nothing  for  her  but  to  sit  at  home  all  the  while; 
she  won't  even  dare  to  go  to  church.  It's  going  to  be  hard 
for  her  in  every  way.' 

"But  father  doesn't  answer. 

"It  is  not  such  an  easy  thing  for  me  to  marry  her! 
To  have  a  wife  that  menservants  and  maidservants  will 
look  down  upon  is  not  a  pleasant  prospect  for  a  man 
with  a  big  farmstead.  Nor  would  mother  like  it.  We 


THE  INGMARSSONS  13 

could  never  invite  people  to  the  house,  either  to  weddings 
or  funerals.' 

"Meanwhile,  not  a  word  out  of  father. 

"  'Of  course  at  the  trial  I  tried  to  help  her  as  much  as  I 
could.  I  told  the  judge  that  I  was  entirely  to  blame,  as  I 
took  the  girl  against  her  will.  I  also  said  that  I  considered 
her  so  innocent  of  any  wrong  that  I  would  marry  her  then 
and  there,  if  she  could  only  think  better  of  me.  I  said  that 
so  the  judge  would  give  her  a  lighter  sentence.  Although 
I've  had  two  letters  from  her,  there's  nothing  in  them  to 
show  any  changed  feeling  toward  me.  So  you  see,  father, 
I'm  not  obliged  to  marry  her  because  of  that  speech/ 

"Father  sits  and  ponders,  but  he  doesn't  speak. 

"I  know  that  this  is  simply  looking  at  the  thing  from 
the  viewpoint  of  men,  and  we  Ingmars  have  always  wanted 
to  stand  well  in  the  sight  of  God.  And  yet  sometimes  I 
think  that  maybe  our  Lord  wouldn't  like  it  if  we  honoured 
a  murderess.' 

"And  father  doesn't  utter  a  sound. 

'Think,  father,  how  one  must  feel  who  lets  another 
suffer  without  giving  a  helping  hand.  I  have  passed 
through  too  much  these  last  few  years  not  to  try  to  do 
something  for  her  when  she  gets  out.' 

"Father  sits  there  immovable. 

"Now  I  can  hardly  keep  back  the  tears.  'You  see, 
father,  I'm  a  young  man  and  will  lose  much  if  I  marry  her. 
Every  one  seems  to  think  I've  already  made  a  mess  of  my 
L:fe;  they  will  think  still  worse  of  me  after  this! ' 

"But  I  can't  make  father  say  a  word. 


i4  JERUSALEM 

'"I  have  often  wondered  why  it  is  that  we  Ingmars  have 
been  allowed  to  remain  on  our  farm  for  hundreds  of  years, 
while  the  other  farms  have  all  changed  hands.  And 
the  thought  comes  to  me  that  it  may  be  because  the 
Ingmars  have  always  tried  to  walk  in  the  ways  of  God. 
We  Ingmars  need  not  fear  man;  we  have  only  to  walk  in 
God's  ways.' 

"Then  the  old  man  looks  up  and  says:  'This  is  a  difficult 
problem,  my  son.  I  guess  I'll  go  in  and  talk  it  over  with 
the  other  Ingmarssons.' 

"So  father  goes  back  to  the  living-room,  while  I  remain 
in  the  kitchen.  There  I  sit  waiting  and  waiting,  but 
father  does  not  return.  Then,  after  hours  and  hours  of 
this,  I  get  cross  and  go  to  him.  'You  must  have 
patience,  little  Ingmar,'  says  father.  'This  is  a  difficult 
question.'  And  I  see  all  the  old  yeomen  sitting  there  with 
closed  eyes,  deep  in  thought.  So  I  wait  and  wait  and,  for 
aught  I  know,  must  go  on  waiting." 

Smiling,  he  followed  the  plow,  which  was  now  moving 
along  very  slowly,  as  if  the  horses  were  tired  out  and  could 
scarcely  drag  it.  When  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  furrow 
he  pulled  up  the  plow  and  rested.  He  had  become  very 
serious. 

"Strange, when  you  ask  anyone's  advice  you  see  yourself 
what  is  right.  Even  while  you  are  asking,  you  discover  all 
at  once  what  you  hadn't  been  able  to  find  out  in  three 
whole  years.  Now  it  shall  be  as  God  wills. " 

He  felt  that  this  thing  must  be  done,  but  at  the  same 


THE  INGMARSSONS  15 

time  it  seemed  so  hard  to  him  that  the  mere  thought  of  it 
took  away  his  courage.  "Help  me,  Lord!"  he  said. 

Ingmar  Ingmarsson  was,  however,  not  the  only  person 
abroad  at  that  hour.  An  old  man  came  trudging  along  the 
winding  path  that  crossed  the  fields.  It  was  not  difficult 
to  guess  his  occupation,  for  he  carried  on  his  shoulder  a 
long-handled  paint  brush  and  was  spattered  with  red  paint 
from  his  cap  to  his  shoe  tips.  He  kept  glancing  round- 
about, after  the  manner  of  journeymen  painters,  to  find  an 
unpainted  farmhouse  or  one  that  needed  repainting.  He 
had  seen,  here  and  there,  one  and  another  which  he  thought 
might  answer  his  purpose,  but  he  could  not  seem  to  fix  upon 
any  special  one.  Then,  finally,  from  the  top  of  a  hillock  he 
caught  sight  of  the  big  Ingmar  Farm  down  in  the  valley. 
"Great  Caesar!"  he  exclaimed,  and  stopped  short.  "That 
farmhouse  hasn't  been  painted  in  a  hundred  years.  Why, 
it's  black  with  age,  and  the  barns  have  never  seen  a  drop  of 
paint.  Here  there's  work  enough  to  keep  me  busy  till  fall." 

A  little  farther  on  he  came  upon  a  man  plowing. 
"Why,  there's  a  farmer  who  belongs  here  and  knows  all 
about  this  neighbourhood,"  thought  the  painter.  "He 
can  tell  me  all  I  need  know  about  that  homestead  yonder." 
Whereupon  he  crossed  the  path  into  the  field,  stepped  up  to 
Ingmar,  and  asked  him  if  he  thought  the  folks  living  over 
there  wanted  any  painting  done. 

Ingmar  Ingmarsson  was  startled,  and  stood  staring  at 
the  man  as  though  he  were  a  ghost. 

"Lord,  as  I  live,  it's  a  painter!"  he  remarked  to  himself. 
"And  to  think  of  his  coming  just  now!"  He  was  so 


16  JERUSALEM 

dumbfounded  that  he  could  not  answer  the  man.  He 
distinctly  recalled  that  every  time  any  one  had  said  to  his 
father:  "You  ought  to  have  that  big,  ugly  house  of  yours 
painted,  Father  Ingmar,"  the  old  man  had  always  replied 
that  he  would  have  it  done  the  year  Ingmar  married. 

The  painter  put  the  question  a  second  time,  and  a  third, 
but  Ingmar  stood  there,  dazed,  as  if  he  had  not  understood 
him. 

"Are  they  ready  at  last  with  their  answer?*'  he  won- 
dered. "Is  this  a  message  from  father  to  say  that  he 
wishes  me  to  marry  this  year?" 

He  was  so  overwhelmed  by  the  thought  that  he  hired  the 
man  on  the  spot.  Then  he  went  on  with  his  plowing, 
deeply  moved  and  almost  happy. 

"You'll  see  it  won't  be  so  very  hard  to  do  this  now  that 
you  know  for  certain  it  is  father's  wish,"  he  said. 

II 

A  fortnight  later  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  stood  polishing 
some  harness.  He  seemed  to  be  in  a  bad  humour,  and  found 
the  work  rather  irksome.  "Were  I  in  our  Lord's  place," 
he  thought,  then  put  in  another  rub  or  two  and  began 
again:  "Were  I  in  our  Lord's  place,  I'd  see  to  it  that  a 
thing  was  done  the  instant  your  mind  was  made  up.  I 
shouldn't  allow  folks  such  a  long  time  to  think  it  over,  and 
ponder  all  the  obstacles.  I  shouldn't  give  them  time  to 
polish  harness  and  paint  wagons;  I'd  take  them  straight 
from  the  plow." 

He  caught  the  sound  of  wagon  wheels  from  the  road,  and 


THE  INGMARSSONS  17 

looked  out.  He  knew  at  once  whose  rig  it  was.  "The 
senator  from  Bergskog  is  coming!"  he  shouted  into  the 
kitchen,  where  his  mother  was  at  work.  Instantly  fresh 
wood  was  laid  on  the  fire  and  the  coffee  mill  was  set  going. 

The  senator  drove  into  the  yard,  where  he  pulled  up 
without  alighting.  "No,  I'm  not  going  into  the  house,"  he 
said,  "I  only  want  a  word  or  two  with  you,  Ingmar.  I'm 
rather  pressed  for  time  as  I  am  due  at  the  parish  meeting." 

"Mother  is  just  making  some  fresh  coffee,"  said  Ingmar. 

"Thank  you,  but  I  must  not  be  late." 

"It's  a  good  while  now  since  you  were  here,  Senator," 
said  Ingmar  pressingly. 

Then  Ingmar's  mother  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and 
protested : 

"Surely  you're  not  thinking  of  going  without  first  com- 
ing in  for  a  drop  of  coffee  ? " 

Ingmar  unbuttoned  the  carriage  apron,  and  the  senator 
began  to  move.  "Seeing  it's  Mother  Martha  herself  that 
commands  me  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  obey,"  he  said. 

The  senator  was  a  tall  man  of  striking  appearance,  with 
a  certain  ease  of  manner.  He  was  of  a  totally  different 
stamp  from  Ingmar  or  his  mother,  who  were  very  plain 
looking,  with  sleepy  faces  and  clumsy  bodies.  But  all  the 
same,  the  senator  had  a  profound  respect  for  the  old  family 
of  Ingmars,  and  would  gladly  have  sacrificed  his  own 
attractive  exterior  to  be  like  Ingmar,  and  to  become  one  of 
the  Ingmarssons.  He  had  always  taken  Ingmar's  part 
against  his  own  daughter,  so  felt  rather  light  of  heart  at 
being  so  well  received. 


1 8  JERUSALEM 

In  a  while,  when  Mother  Martha  had  brought  the  coffee, 
he  began  to  state  his  errand. 

"I  thought,"  he  said,  and  cleared  his  throat.  "I 
thought  you  had  best  be  told  what  we  intend  to  do  with 
Brita."  The  cup  which  Mother  Martha  held  in  her  hand 
shook  a  little,  and  the  teaspoon  rattled  in  the  saucer.  Then 
there  was  a  painful  silence.  "We  have  been  thinking  that 
the  best  thing  we  could  do  would  be  to  send  her  to  Amer- 
ica." He  made  another  pause,  only  to  be  met  by  the  same 
ominous  silence.  He  sighed  at  the  thought  of  these  un- 
responsive people.  "Her  ticket  has  already  been  pur- 
chased." 

"She  will  come  home  first,  of  course,"  said  Ingmar. 

"No;  what  would  she  be  doing  there?" 

Again  Ingmar  was  silent.  He  sat  with  his  eyes  nearly 
closed,  as  if  he  were  half  asleep. 

Then  Mother  Martha  took  a  turn  at  asking  questions. 
"She'll  be  needing  clothes,  won't  she?" 

"All  that  has  been  attended  to;  there  is  a  .trunk,  ready 
packed,  at  Lovberg's  place,  where  we  always  stop  when  we 
come  to  town." 

"Her  mother  will  be  there  to  meet  her,  I  suppose?" 

"Well,  no.  She  would  like  to,  but  I  think  it  best  that 
they  be  spared  a  meeting." 

"Maybe  so." 

"The  ticket  and  some  money  are  waiting  for  her  at 
Lovberg's,  so  that  she  will  have  everything  she  needs.  I 
felt  that  Ingmar  ought  to  know  of  it,  so  he  won't  have 
this  burden  on  his  mind  any  longer,"  said  the  senator. 


THE  INGMARSSONS  19 

Then  Mother  Martha  kept  still,  too.  Her  headkerchief 
had  slipped  back,  and  she  sat  gazing  down  at  her  apron. 

"Ingmar  should  be  looking  about  for  a  new  wife." 

Both  mother  and  son  persistently  held  their  peace. 

"  Mother  Martha  needs  a  helper  in  this  big  household. 
Ingmar  should  see  to  it  that  she  has  some  comfort  in  her 
old  age."  The  senator  paused  a  moment,  wondering  if 
they  could  have  heard  what  he  said.  "My  wife  and  I 
wanted  to  make  everything  right  again,"  he  declared 
finally. 

In  the  meantime,  a  sense  of  great  relief  had  come  to  Ing- 
mar. Brita  was  going  to  America,  and  he  would  not  have 
to  marry  her.  After  all  a  murderess  was  not  to  become 
the  mistress  of  the  old  Ingmar  home.  He  had  kept  still, 
thinking  it  was  not  the  thing  to  show  at  once  how  pleased 
he  was,  but  now  he  began  to  feel  that  it  would  be  only 
right  and  proper  for  him  to  say  something. 

The  senator  quietly  bided  his  time.  He  knew  that  he 
had  to  give  these  old-fashioned  people  time  to  consider. 
Presently  Ingmar's  mother  said: 

"Brita  has  paid  her  penalty;  now  it's  our  turn."  By 
this  the  old  woman  meant  that  if  the  senator  wanted  any 
help  from  the  Ingmarssons,  in  return  for  his  having  smoothed 
the  way  for  them,  they  would  not  withhold  it.  But  Ing- 
mar interpreted  her  utterance  differently.  He  gave  a 
start,  as  if  suddenly  awakened  from  sleep.  "What 
would  father  say  of  this  ? "  he  wondered.  "  If  I  were  to  lay 
this  whole  matter  before  him,  what  would  he  be  likely  to 
say?  'You  must  not  think  that  you  can  make  a  mockery 


20  JERUSALEM 

of  God's  judgment,'  he  would  say.  'And  don't  imagine, 
that  He  will  let  it  go  unpunished  if  you  allow  Brita  to 
shoulder  all  the  blame.  If  her  father  wants  to  cast  her  off 
just  to  get  into  your  good  graces,  so  that  he  can  borrow 
money  from  you,  you  must  nevertheless  follow  God's  lead- 
ing, little  Ingmar  Ingmarsson.' 

"I  verily  believe  the  old  man  is  keeping  close  watch  of 
me  in  this  matter,"  he  thought.  "He  must  have  sent 
Brita's  father  here  to  show  me  how  mean  it  is  to  try  to 
shift  everything  on  to  her,  poor  girl!  I  guess  he  must  have 
noticed  that  I  haven't  had  any  great  desire  to  take  that 
journey  these  last  few  days." 

Ingmar  got  up,  poured  some  brandy  into  his  coffee,  and 
raised  the  cup. 

"Here's  a  thank  you  to  the  senator  for  coming  here  to- 
day," he  said,  and  clinked  cups  with  him. 

Ill 

Ingmar  had  been  busy  all  the  morning,  working  around 
the  birches  down  by  the  gate.  First  he  had  put  up  a 
scaffolding,  then  he  had  bent  the  tops  of  the  trees  toward 
each  other  so  that  they  formed  an  arch. 

"What's  all  that  for?"  asked  Mother  Martha. 

"Oh,  it  suits  my  fancy  to  have  them  grow  that  way  for  a 
change,"  said  Ingmar. 

Along  came  the  noon  hour,  and  the  men  folks  stopped 
their  work;  after  the  midday  meal  the  farm  hands  went  out 
into  the  yard  and  lay  down  in  the  grass  to  sleep.  Ingmar 
Ingmarsson  slept,  too,  but  he  was  lying  in  a  broad  bed  in 


THE  INGMARSSONS  21 

the  chamber  off  the  living-room.  The  only  person  not 
asleep  was  the  old  mistress,  who  sat  in  the  big  room, 
knitting. 

The  door  to  the  entrance  hall  was  cautiously  opened,  and 
in  came  an  old  woman  carrying  two  large  baskets  on  a  yoke. 
After  passing  the  time  of  day,  she  sat  down  on  a  chair  by 
the  door  and  took  the  lids  off  the  baskets,  one  of  which  was 
filled  with  rusks  and  buns,  the  other  with  newly  baked 
loaves  of  spiced  bread.  The  housewife  at  once  went  over 
to  the  old  woman  and  began  to  bargain.  Ordinarily  she 
kept  a  tight  fist  on  the  pennies,  but  she  never  could  resist 
a  temptation  to  indulge  her  weakness  for  sweets  to  dip  in 
her  coffee. 

While  selecting  her  cakes  she  began  to  chat  with  the  old 
woman,  who,  like  most  persons  that  go  from  place  to  place 
and  know  many  people,  was  a  ready  talker.  "Kaisa, 
you're  a  sensible  person,"  said  Mother  Martha,  "and 
one  can  rely  on  you." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  other.  "If  I  didn't  know 
enough  to  keep  mum  about  most  of  the  things  I  hear, 
there'd  be  some  fine  hair-pulling  matches,  I'm  thinking!" 

"But  sometimes  you  are  altogether  too  close-mouthed, 
Kaisa." 

The  old  woman  looked  up;  the  inference  was  quite 
plain  to  her. 

"May  the  Lord  forgive  me!"  she  said  tearfully,  "but  I 
talked  to  the  senator's  wife  at  Bergskog  when  I  should 
have  come  straight  to  you." 

"So  you  have   been  talking   to   the   senator's  wife?" 


22  JERUSALEM 

And  the  emphasis  given  to  the  last  two  words  spoke 
volumes. 

Ingmar  had  been  startled  from  his  sleep  by  the  open- 
ing of  the  outside  door.  No  one  had  come  in,  apparently; 
still  the  door  stood  ajar.  He  did  not  know  whether  it 
had  sprung  open  or  whether  some  one  had  opened  it. 
Too  sleepy  to  get  up,  he  settled  back  in  bed.  And  then 
he  heard  talking  in  the  outer  room. 

"Now  tell  me,  Kaisa,  what  makes  you  think  that  Brita 
doesn't  care  for  Ingmar." 

"From  the  very  start  folks  have  been  saying  that  her 
parents  made  her  take  him,"  returned  the  old  woman, 
evasively. 

"Speak  right  out,  Kaisa,  for  when  I  question  you,  you 
don't  have  to  beat  about  the  bush.  I  guess  I'm  able  to 
bear  anything  you  may  have  to  tell  me." 

"I  must  say  that  every  time  I  was  at  Bergskog  Brita 
always  looked  as  if  she'd  been  crying.  Once,  when  she 
and  I  were  alone  in  the  kitchen,  I  said  to  her:  'It's  a 
fine  husband  you'll  be  getting,  Brita.'  She  looked  at  me 
as  if  she  thought  I  was  making  fun  of  her.  Then  she 
came  at  me  with  this:  'You  may  well  say  it,  Kaisa.  Fine, 
indeed!'  She  said  it  in  such  a  way  that  I  seemed  to  see 
Ingmar  Ingmarsson  standing  there  before  my  face  and 
eyes,  and  he's  no  beauty!  As  I've  always  had  a  great 
respect  for  all  the  Ingmarssons,  that  thought  had  never 
before  entered  my  mind.  I  couldn't  help  smiling  a  little. 
Then  Brita  gave  me  a  look  and  said  once  more:  'Fine, 
indeed!'  With  that  she  turned  on. her  heel  and  ran  into 


THE  INGMARSSONS  23 

her  room,  crying  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  As  I  was 
leaving  I  said  to  myself:  'It  will  all  come  out  right; 
everything  always  comes  out  right  for  the  Ingmarssons.' 
I  didn't  wonder  at  her  parents  doing  what  they  did.  If 
Ingmar  Ingmarsson  had  proposed  to  a  daughter  of  mine, 
I  shouldn't  have  given  myself  a  moment's  peace  till  she 
had  said  yes." 

Ingmar  from  his  bedroom  could  hear  every  word  that 
was  spoken. 

"  Mother  is  doing  this  on  purpose,"  he  thought.  "  She's 
been  wondering  about  that  trip  to  town  to-morrow. 
Mother  fancies  I'm  going  after  Brita,  to  fetch  her  home. 
She  doesn't  suspect  that  I'm  too  big  a  coward  to  do  it." 

"The  next  time  I  saw  Brita,"  the  old  woman  went  on, 
"was  after  she  had  come  here  to  you.  I  couldn't  ask  her 
just  then  how  she  liked  it  here,  seeing  the  house  was 
full  of  visitors;  but  when  I  had  gone  a  ways  into  the  grove 
she  came  running  after  me. 

"Kaisa!'  she  called,  'have  you  been  up  at  Bergskog 
lately?' 

'  'I  was  there  day  before  yesterday,'  I  replied. 

"Gracious  me!  were  you  there  day  before  yesterday? 
And  I  feel  as  if  I  hadn't  been  at  home  in  years!'  It 
wasn't  easy  to  know  just  what  to  say  to  her,  for  she  looked 
as  if  she  couldn't  bear  the  least  little  thing  and  would  be 
ready  to  cry  at  whatever  I  might  say.  'You  can  surely 
go  home  for  a  visit?'  I  said.  'No;  I  don't  think  I  shall 
ever  go  home  again.'  'Oh,  do  go,'  I  urged.  'It's  beau- 
tiful up  there  now;  the  woods  are  full  of  berries;  the  bushes 


24  JERUSALEM 

are  thick  with  red  whortleberries.'  'Dear  me!'  she  said, 
her  eyes  growing  big  with  surprise,  'are  there  whortle- 
berries already?'  'Yes,  indeed.  Surely  you  can  get  off 
a  day,  just  to  go  home  and  eat  your  fill  of  berries?'  'No, 
I  hardly  think  I  want  to,'  she  said.  'My  going  home 
would  make  it  all  the  harder  to  come  back  to  this  place.' 
'I've  always  heard  that  the  Ingmars  are  the  best  kind  of 
folks  to  be  with,'  I  told  her.  'They  are  honest  people.' 
'Oh,  yes,'  she  said,  'they  are  good  in  their  way.'  'They 
are  the  best  people  in  the  parish,'  I  said,  'and  so  fair- 
minded.'  'It  is  not  considered  unfair  then  to  take  a  wife 
by  force.'  'They  are  also  very  wise.'  'But  they  keep 
all  they  know  to  themselves.'  'Do  they  never  say  any- 
thing?' 'No  one  ever  says  a  word  more  than  what  is 
absolutely  necessary.' 

"I  was  just  about  to  go  my  way,  when  it  came  to  me  to 
ask  her  where  the  wedding  was  going  to  be  held — here 
or  at  her  home.  'We're  thinking  of  having  it  here,  where 
there  is  plenty  of  room.'  'Then  see  to  it  that  the  wedding 
day  isn't  put  off  too  long,'  I  warned.  'We  are  to  be  mar- 
ried in  a  month,'  she  answered. 

"But  before  Brita  and  I  parted  company  it  struck  me 
that  the  Ingmarssons  had  had  a  poor  harvest,  so  I  said 
it  was  not  likely  that  they  would  have  a  wedding  that 
year.  'In  that  case  I  shall  have  to  jump  into  the  river,' 
she  declared. 

"A  month  later  I  was  told  that  the  wedding  had  been 
put  off  and,  fearing  that  this  would  not  end  well,  I  went 
straight  to  Bergskog  and  had  a  talk  with  Brita's  mother. 


THE  INGMARSSONS  25 

'They  are  certainly  making  a  stupid  blunder  down  at  the 
Ingmar  Farm,'  I  told  her.  'We  are  satisfied  with  their 
way  of  doing  things,'  she  said.  'Every  day  we  thank 
God  that  our  daughter  has  been  so  well  provided  for." 

"Mother  needn't  have  given  herself  all  this  bother," 
Ingmar  was  thinking,  "for  no  one  from  this  farm  is  going 
to  fetch  Brita.  There  was  no  reason  for  her  being  so 
upset  at  the  sight  of  the  arch:  that  is  only  one  of  those 
things  a  man  does  so  that  he  can  turn  to  our  Lord  and  say: 
'I  wanted  to  do  it.  Surely  you  must  see  that  I  meant  to 
do  it.'  But  doing  it  is  another  matter." 

"The  last  time  I  saw  Brita,"  Kaisa  went  on,  "was  in 
the  middle  of  the  winter  after  a  big  snowfall.  I  had 
come  to  a  narrow  path  in  the  wild  forest,  where  it  was 
heavy  walking.  Soon  I  came  upon  some  one  who  was 
sitting  in  the  snow,  resting.  It  was  Brita.  'Are  you  all 
by  yourself  up  here  ? '  I  asked.  'Yes,  I'm  out  for  a  walk,' 
she  said.  I  stood  stockstill  and  stared  at  her;  I  couldn't 
imagine  what  she  was  doing  there.  'I'm  looking  round  to 
see  if  there  are  any  steep  hills  hereabout,'  she  then  said. 
'Dear  heart!  are  you  thinking  of  casting  yourself  from  a 
cliff?'  I  gasped,  for  she  looked  as  if  she  was  tired  of  life. 

"'Yes,'  she  said.  'If  I  could  only  find  a  hill  that  was 
high  and  steep  I'd  certainly  throw  myself  down/  'You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  talk  like  that,  and  you  so  well 
cared  for.'  'You  see,  Kaisa,  I'm  a  bad  lot.'  'I'm  afraid 
you  are.'  'I  am  likely  to  do  something  dreadful,  there- 
fore I  might  better  be  dead.'  'That's  only  silly  gabble, 
child.'  'I  turned  bad  as  soon  as  I  went  to  live  with  those 


26  JERUSALEM 

people/  Then,  coming  quite  close  to  me,  with  the  wildest 
look  in  her  eyes,  she  shrieked:  'All  they  think  about  is 
how  they  can  torture  me,  and  I  think  only  of  how  I  can 
torture  them  in  return.'  'No,  no,  Brita;  they  are  good 
people.'  'All  they  care  about  is  to  bring  shame  upon  me/ 
'Have  you  said  so  to  them?'  'I  never  speak  to  them.  I 
only  think  and  wonder  how  I'm  going  to  get  even  with 
them.  I'm  thinking  of  setting  fire  to  the  farm,  for  I  know 
he  loves  it.  How  I'd  like  to  poison  the  cows!  they  are  so 
old  and  ugly  and  white  around  the  eyes  that  one  would 
think  they  were  related  to  him/  'Barking  dogs  never 
bite,'  I  said.  'I've  got  to  do  something  to  him,  or  I'll 
never  have  any  peace  of  mind/  'You  don't  know  what 
you  are  saying,  child,'  I  protested.  'What  you  are  think- 
ing of  doing  would  forever  destroy  your  peace  of  mind/ 

"All  at  once  she  began  to  cry.  Then,  after  a  little,  she 
became  very  meek  and  said  that  she  had  suffered  so  from 
the  bad  thoughts  that  came  to  her.  I  then  walked  home 
with  her  and,  as  we  parted  company,  she  promised  me  that 
she  would  do  nothing  rash  if  I  would  only  keep  a  close 
mouth. 

"Still  I  couldn't  help  thinking  that  I  ought  to  talk  to 
some  one  about  this,"  said  Kaisa.  "But  to  whom?  I 
felt  kind  of  backward  about  going  to  big  folk  like  your- 
selves  " 

Just  then  the  bell  above  the  stable  rang.  The  midday 
rest  was  over.  Mother  Martha  suddenly  interrupted  the 
old  woman:  "I  say,  Kaisa,  do  you  think  things  can  ever 
be  right  again  between  Ingmar  and  Brita?" 


THE  INGMARSSONS  27 

"What?"  gasped  the  old  woman  in  astonishment. 

"I  mean,  if  by  chance  she  were  not  going  to  America, 
do  you  suppose  she  would  have  him?" 

"Well,  I  should  say  not!" 

"Then  you  are  quite  sure  she  would  give  him  no  for  an 
answer." 

"Of  course  she  would." 

Ingmar  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  his  legs  dangling 
over  the  side. 

"Now  you  got  just  what  you  needed,  Ingmar,"  he 
thought;  "and  now  I  guess  you'll  take  that  journey 
to-morrow,"  he  said,  pounding  the  edge  of  the  bed 
with  his  fist.  "How  can  mother  think  she'll  get  me 
to  stay  at  home  by  showing  me  that  Brita  doesn't  like 
me!" 

He  kept  pounding  the  side  of  the  bed,  as  if  in  thought 
he  were  knocking  down  something  that  was  resisting 
him. 

"Anyway,  I'm  going  to  chance  it  once  more,"  he  decided. 
"We  Ingmars  begin  all  over  again  when  things  go  wrong. 
No  man  that  is  a  man  can  sit  back  calmly  and  let  a  wo- 
man fret  herself  insane  over  his  conduct." 

Never  had  he  felt  so  keenly  his  utter  defeat,  and  he 
was  determined  to  put  himself  right. 

"I'd  be  a  hell  of  a  man  if  I  couldn't  make  Brita  happy 
here!"  he  said. 

He  dealt  the  bedpost  a  last  blow  before  getting  up  to  go 
back  to  his  work. 

"As  sure  as  you're  born  it  was  Big  Ingmar  that  sent  old 


28  JERUSALEM 

Kaisa  here,  in  order  to  make  me  take  that  trip  to  the 

city." 

IV 

Ingmar  Ingmarsson  had  arrived  in  the  city,  and  was 
walking  slowly  toward  the  big  prison  house,  which  was 
beautifully  situated  on  the  crest  of  a  hill  overlooking  the 
public  park.  He  did  not  glance  about  him,  but  went 
with  eyes  downcast,  dragging  himself  along  with  as  much 
difficulty  as  though  he  were  some  feeble  old  man.  He  had 
left  off  his  usual  picturesque  peasant  garb  on  this  occasion, 
and  was  wearing  a  black  cloth  suit  and  a  starched  shirt: 
which  he  had  already  crumpled.  He  felt  very  solemn, 
yet  all  the  while  he  was  anxious  and  reluctant. 

On  coming  to  the  gravelled  yard  in  front  of  the  jail 
he  saw  a  guard  on  duty  and  asked  him  if  this  was  not  the 
day  that  Brita  Ericsson  was  to  be  discharged. 

"Yes,  I  think  there  is  a  woman  coming  out  to-day," 
the  guard  answered. 

"One  who  has  been  in  for  infanticide,"  Ingmar  ex- 
plained. 

"Oh,  that  one!     Yes,  she'll  be  out  this  forenoon." 

Ingmar  stationed  himself  under  a  tree,  to  wait.  Not 
for  a  second  did  he  take  his  eyes  off  the  prison  gate.  "I 
dare  say  there  are  some  among  those  who  have  gone  in 
there  that  haven't  fared  any  too  well,"  he  thought.  "I 
don't  want  to  brag,  but  maybe  there's  many  a  one  on  the 
inside  that  has  suffered  less  than  I  who  am  outside.  Well, 
I  declare,  Big  Ingmar  has  brought  me  here  to  fetch  my 
bride  from  the  prison  house,"  he  remarked  to  himself 


THE  INGMARSSONS  29 

"But  I  can't  say  that  little  Ingmar  is  overpleased  at  the 
thought;  he  would  have  liked  seeing  her  pass  through  a 
gate  of  honour  instead,  with  her  mother  standing  by  her 
side,  to  give  her  to  the  bridegroom.  And  then  they  should 
have  driven  to  the  church  in  a  flower-trimmed  chaise, 
followed  by  a  big  bridal  procession,  and  she  should  have 
sat  beside  him  dressed  as  a  bride,  and  smiling  under  her 
bridal  crown." 

The  gate  opened  several  times.  First,  a  chaplain  came 
out,  then  it  was  the  wife  of  the  governor  of  the  prison, 
and  then  seme  servants  who  were  going  to  town.  Fi- 
nally Brita  came.  When  the  gate  opened  he  felt  a  cramp 
at  the  heart.  "It  is  she,"  he  thought.  His  eyes  dropped. 
He  was  as  if  paralyzed,  and  could  not  move.  When  he 
had  recovered  himself,  he  looked  up;  she  was  then  stand- 
ing on  the  steps  outside  the  gate. 

She  stood  there  a  moment,  quite  still;  she  had  pushed 
back  her  headshawl  and,  with  eyes  that  were  clear  and 
open,  she  looked  out  across  the  landscape.  The  prison 
stood  on  high  ground,  and  beyond  the  town  and  the 
stretches  of  forest  she  could  see  her  native  hills. 

Suddenly  she  seemed  to  be  shaken  by  some  unseen  force; 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sank  down  upon 
the  stone  step.  Ingmar  could  hear  her  sobs  from  where 
he  stood. 

Presently  he  went  over  to  her,  and  waited.  She  was  cry- 
ing so  hard  that  she  seemed  deaf  to  every  other  sound; 
and  he  had  to  stand  there  a  long  time.  At  last  he  said: 

"Don't  cry  like  that,  Brita!" 


30  JERUSALEM 

She  looked  up.  "O  God  in  Heaven!"  she  exclaimed, 
"are  you  here?" 

Instantly  all  that  she  had  done  to  him  flashed  across 
her  mind — and  what  it  must  have  cost  him  to  come. 
With  a  cry  of  joy  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
began  to  sob  again. 

"How  I  have  longed  that  you  might  come!"  she 
said. 

Ingmar's  heart  began  to  beat  faster  at  the  thought  of 
her  being  so  pleased  with  him.  "Why,  Brita,  have  you 
really  been  longing  for  me?"  he  said,  quite  moved. 

"I  have  wanted  so  much  to  ask  your  forgiveness." 

Ingmar  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  and  said 
very  coldly: 

"There  will  be  plenty  of  time  for  that.  I  don't  think 
we  ought  to  stop  here  any  longer." 

"No,  this  is  no  place  to  stop  at,"  she  answered  meekly. 

"I  have  put  up  at  Lovberg's,"  he  said  as  they 
walked  along  the  road. 

"That's  where  my  trunk  is." 

"I  have  seen  it  there,"  said  Ingmar.  "It's  too  big 
for  the  back  of  the  cart,  so  it  will  have  to  be  left  there 
till  we  can  send  for  it." 

Brita  stopped  and  looked  up  at  him.  This  was  the 
first  time  he  had  intimated  that  he  meant  to  take  her 
home. 

"I  had  a  letter  from  father  to-day.  He  says  that  you 
also  think  that  I  ought  to  go  to  America." 

"I  thought  there  was  no  harm  in  your  having  a  second 


THE  INGMARSSONS  31 

choice.  It  wasn't  so  certain  that  you  would  care  to  come 
back  with  me." 

She  noticed  that  he  said  nothing  about  wanting  her  to 
come,  but  maybe  it  was  because  he  did  not  wish  to  force 
himself  upon  her  a  second  time.  She  grew  very  reluctant. 
It  couldn't  be  an  enviable  task  to  take  one  of  her  kind  to 
the  Ingmar  Farm.  Then  something  seemed  to  say: 

"Tell  him  that  you  will  go  to  America;  it  is  the  only 
service  you  can  render  him.  Tell  him  that,  tell  him  that !  '* 
urged  something  within  her.  And  while  this  thought 
was  still  in  her  mind  she  heard  some  one  say:  "I'm  afraid 
that  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  go  to  America.  They 
tell  me  that  you  have  to  work  very  hard  over  there."  It 
was  as  if  another  had  spoken,  and  not  she  herself. 

"So  they  say,"  Ingmar  said  indifferently. 

She  was  ashamed  of  her  weakness  and  thought  of  how 
only  that  morning  she  had  told  the  prison  chaplain  that 
she  was  going  out  into  the  world  a  new  and  a  better 
woman.  Thoroughly  displeased  with  herself,  she  walked 
on  silently  for  some  time,  wondering  how  she  should  take 
back  her  words.  But  as  soon  as  she  tried  to  speak,  she 
was  held  back  by  the  thought  that  if  he  still  cared  for 
her  it  would  be  the  basest  kind  of  ingratitude  to  repulse 
him  again.  "If  I  could  only  read  his  thoughts!"  she  said 
to  herself. 

Presently  she  stopped  and  leaned  against  a  wall. 
"All  this  noise  and  the  sight  of  so  many  people  makes  my 
head  go  round,"  she  said.  He  put  out  his  hand,  which 
she  took;  then  they  went  along,  hand  in  hand.  Ingmar 


32  JERUSALEM 

was  thinking,  "Now  we  look  like  sweethearts."  All  the 
same  he  wondered  how  it  would  be  when  he  got  home, 
how  his  mother  and  the  rest  of  the  folks  would  take  it. 

When  they  came  to  Lovberg's  place,  Ingmar  said  that 
his  horse  was  now  thoroughly  rested,  and  if  she  had  no 
objection  they  might  as  well  cover  the  first  few  stations 
that  day.  Then  she  thought:  "Now  is  the  time  to  tell 
him  that  you  won't  go.  Thank  him  first,  then  tell  him 
that  you  don't  want  to  go  with  him."  She  prayed  God 
that  she  might  be  shown  if  he  had  come  for  her  only  out 
of  pity.  In  the  meantime  Ingmar  had  drawn  the  cart 
out  of  the  shed.  The  cart  had  been  newly  painted,  the 
dasher  shone,  and  the  cushions  had  fresh  covering.  To 
the  buckboard  was  attached  a  little  half-withered  bouquet 
of  wild  flowers.  The  sight  of  the  flowers  made  her  stop 
and  think.  Ingmar,  meanwhile,  had  gone  back  to  the  stable 
and  harnessed  the  horse,  and  was  now  leading  him  out. 
Then  she  discovered  another  bouquet  of  the  same  sort, 
between  the  hames,  and  began  to  feel  that  after  all  he 
must  like  her.  So  it  seemed  best  not  to  say  anything. 
Otherwise  he  might  think  she  was  ungrateful  and  that 
she  did  not  understand  how  big  a  thing  he  was  offering 
her. 

For  a  time  they  drove  along  without  exchanging  a  word. 
Then,  in  order  to  break  the  silence,  she  began  to  question 
him  about  various  home  matters.  With  every  question 
he  was  reminded  of  some  one  or  other  whose  judgment  he 
feared.  How  so  and  so  will  wonder  and  how  so  and  so 
will  laugh  at  me,  he  thought. 


THE  INGMARSSONS  33 

He  answered  only  in  monosyllables.  Time  and  again 
she  felt  like  begging  him  to  turn  back.  "He  doesn't 
want  me,"  she  thought.  "He  doesn't  care  for  me;  he  is 
doing  this  only  out  of  charity." 

She  soon  stopped  asking  questions.  They  drove  on  for 
miles  in  deep  silence.  When  they  came  to  their  first 
stopping  place,  which  was  an  inn,  there  were  coffee  and 
hot  biscuits  in  readiness  for  them;  and  on  the  tray  were 
some  more  flowers.  She  knew  then  that  he  had  ordered 
this  the  day  before,  when  passing.  Was  that,  too,  done 
only  out  of  kindness  and  pity?  Was  he  happy  yesterday? 
Was  it  only  to-day  that  he  had  lost  heart,  after  seeing  her 
come  out  of  prison  ?  To-morrow,  when  he  had  forgotten 
this,  perhaps  all  would  be  well  again. 

Sorrow  and  remorse  had  softened  Brita:  she  did  not 
want  to  cause  him  any  more  unhappiness.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  he  really 

They  stayed  at  an  inn  overnight  and  left  early  the 
next  morning.  By  ten  o'clock  they  were  already  within 
sight  of  their  parish  church.  As  they  drove  along  the 
road  leading  to  the  church  it  was  thronged  with  people, 
and  the  bells  were  ringing. 

"Why,  it's  Sunday!"  Brita  exclaimed,  instinctively 
folding  her  hands.  She  forgot  everything  else  in  the 
thought  of  going  to  church  and  praising  God.  She 
wanted  to  begin  her  new  life  with  a  service  in  the  old 
church. 

"I  should  love  to  go  to  church,"  she  said  to  Ingmar, 


34  JERUSALEM 

never  thinking  that  it  might  be  embarrassing  for  him  to 
be  seen  there  with  her.  She  was  all  devotion  and  grati- 
tude !  Ingmar's  first  impulse  was  to  say  that  she  couldn't; 
he  felt  somehow  that  he  had  not  the  courage  to  face  the 
curious  glances  and  gossiping  tongues  of  these  people. 
"It  has  got  to  be  met  sooner  or  later,"  he  thought.  "  Put- 
ting it  off  won't  make  it  any  easier." 

He  turned  and  drove  in  on  the  church  grounds.  The 
service  had  not  yet  started,  and  many  persons  were  sitting 
in  the  grass  and  on  the  stone  hedge,  watching  the  people 
arrive.  The  instant  they  saw  Ingmar  and  Brita  they 
began  to  nudge  each  other,  and  whisper,  and  point. 
Ingmar  glanced  at  Brita.  She  sat  there  with  clasped 
hands,  quite  unconscious  of  the  things  about  her.  She 
saw  no  persons,  apparently,  but  Ingmar  saw  them  only 
too  well.  They  came  running  after  the  wagon,  and  he 
did  not  wonder  at  their  running  or  their  stares.  They 
must  have  thought  that  their  eyes  had  deceived  them.  Of 
course,  they  could  not  believe  that  he  had  come  to  the 
house  of  God  with  her — the  woman  who  had  strangled  her 
child.  "This  is  too  much!"  he  said.  "I  can't  stand 
it." 

"I  think  you'd  better  go  inside  at  once,  Brita,"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"Why,  certainly,"  she  answered.  To  attend  service 
was  her  only  thought;  she  had  not  come  there  to  meet 
people. 

Ingmar  took  his  own  time  unharnessing  and  feeding 
the  horse.  Many  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him,  but  nobody 


THE  INGMARSSONS  35 

spoke  to  him.  By  the  time  he  was  ready  to  go  into  the 
church,  most  of  the  people  were  already  in  their  pews,  and 
the  opening  hymn  was  being  sung.  Walking  down  the 
centre  isle,  he  glanced  over  at  the  side  where  the  women 
were  seated.  All  the  pews  were  filled  save  one,  and  in 
that  there  was  only  one  person.  He  saw  at  once  that  it 
was  Brita  and  knew,  of  course,  that  no  one  had  cared  to 
sit  with  her.  Ingmar  went  and  sat  down  beside  her. 
Brita  looked  up  at  him  in  wonderment.  She  had  not 
noticed  it  before,  but  now  she  understood  why  she  had 
the  pew  to  herself.  Then  the  deep  feeling  of  devotion, 
which  she  had  but  just  experienced,  was  dispelled  by  a 
sense  of  black  despair.  "How  would  it  all  end?"  she 
wondered.  She  should  never  have  come  with  him. 

Her  eyes  began  to  fill.  To  keep  from  breaking  down 
she  took  up  an  old  prayerbook  from  the  shelf  in  front  of 
her,  and  opened  it.  She  kept  turning  the  leaves  of  both 
gospels  and  epistles  without  being  able  to  see  a  word  for 
the  tears.  Suddenly  something  bright  caught  her  eye. 
It  was  a  bookmark,  with  a  red  heart,  which  lay  between 
the  leaves.  She  took  it  out  and  slipped  it  toward  Ingmar. 
She  saw  him  close  his  big  hand  over  it  and  steal  a  glance  at 
it.  Shortly  afterward  it  lay  upon  the  floor.  "What  is 
to  become  of  us?"  thought  Brita,  sobbing  behind  the 
prayerbook. 

As  soon  as  the  preacher  had  stepped  down  from  the 
pulpit  they  went  out.  Ingmar  hurriedly  hitched  up  the 
horse,  with  Brita's  help.  By  the  time  the  benediction 
was  pronounced  and  the  congregation  was  beginning  to 


36  JERUSALEM 

file  out,  Brita  and  Ingmar  were  already  off.  Both  seemed 
to  be  thinking  the  same  thought:  one  who  has  committed 
such  a  crime  cannot  live  among  people.  The  two  felt 
as  if  they  had  been  doing  penance  by  appearing  at  church. 
"Neither  of  us  will  be  able  to  stand  it,"  they  thought. 

In  the  midst  of  her  distress  of  mind,  Brita  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  Ingmar  Farm,  and  hardly  knew  it  again, 
it  looked  so  bright  and  red.  She  remembered  having 
heard  that  the  house  was  to  be  painted  the  year  Ingmar 
married.  Before,  the  wedding  had  been  put  off  because 
he  had  felt  that  he  could  not  afford  to  pay  out  any  money 
just  then.  Now  she  understood  that  he  had  always  meant 
to  have  everything  right;  but  the  way  had  been  made 
rather  hard  for  him. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  farm  the  folks  were  at  dinner. 
"Here  comes  the  boss,"  said  one  of  the  men,  looking  out. 
Mother  Martha  got  up  from  the  table,  scarcely  lifting  her 
heavy  eyelids.  "Stay  where  you  are,  all  of  you!"  she 
commanded.  "No  one  need  rise  from  the  table." 

The  old  woman  walked  heavily  across  the  room.  Those 
who  turned  to  look  after  her  noticed  that  she  had  on  her 
best  dress,  with  her  silk  shawl  across  her  shoulders,  and 
her  silk  kerchief  on  her  head,  as  if  to  emphasize  her  au- 
thority. When  the  horse  stopped  she  was  already  at  the 
door. 

Ingmar  jumped  down  at  once,  but  Brita  kept  her  seat. 
He  went  over  to  her  side  and  unfastened  the  carriage 
apron. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  get  out?"  he  said. 


THE  INGMARSSONS  37 

"No,"  she  replied,  then  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  she  burst  into  tears. 

"I  ought  never  to  have  come  back,"  she  sobbed. 

"Oh,  do  get  down!"  he  urged. 

"Let  me  go  back  to  the  city;  I'm  not  good  enough  for 
you." 

Ingmar  thought  that  maybe  she  was  right  about  it, 
but  said  nothing.  He  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  apron, 
and  waited. 

"What  does  she  say?"  asked  Mother  Martha  from  the 
doorway. 

"She  says  she  isn't  good  enough  for  us,"  Ingmar  re- 
plied, for  Brita's  words  could  scarcely  be  heard  for  her  sobs. 

"What  is  she  crying  about?"  asked  the  old  woman. 

"Because  I  am  such  a  miserable  sinner,"  said  Brita, 
pressing  her  hands  to  her  heart  which  she  thought  would 
break. 

"What's  that?"  the  old  woman  asked  once  more. 

"She  says  she  is  such  a  miserable  sinner,"  Ingmar  re- 
peated. 

When  Brita  heard  him  repeat  her  words  in  a  cold  and 
indifferent  tone,  the  truth  suddenly  flashed  upon  her. 
No,  he  could  never  have  stood  there  and  repeated  those 
words  to  his  mother  had  he  been  fond  of  her,  or  had  there 
been  a  spark  of  love  in  his  heart  for  her. 

"Why  doesn't  she  get  down?"  the  old  woman  then 
asked. 

Suppressing  her  sobs,  Brita  spoke  up:  "Because  I 
don't  want  to  bring  misfortune  upon  Ingmar." 


38  JERUSALEM 

"  I  think  she  is  quite  right,"  said  the  old  mistress.  "  Let 
her  go,  little  Ingmar!  You  may  as  well  know  that  other- 
wise I'll  be  the  one  to  leave:  for  I'll  not  sleep  one  night 
under  the  same  roof  with  the  likes  of  her." 

"For  God's  sake  let  me  go!"  Brita  moaned. 

Ingmar  ripped  out  an  oath,  turned  the  horse,  and  sprang 
into  the  cart.  He  was  sick  and  tired  of  all  this  and  could 
not  stand  any  more  of  it. 

Out  on  the  highway  they  kept  meeting  church  people. 
This  annoyed  Ingmar.  Suddenly  he  turned  the  horse 
and  drove  in  on  a  narrow  forest  road. 

As  he  turned  some  one  called  to  him.  He  glanced  back. 
It  was  the  postman  with  a  letter  for  him.  He  took  the 
letter,  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  and  drove  on. 

As  soon  as  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  not  be  seen  from 
the  road,  he  slowed  down  and  brought  out  the  letter. 
Instantly  Brita  put  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "Don't  read 
it!"  she  begged. 

"Why  not?  "he  asked. 

"Never  mind  reading  it;  it's  nothing." 

"  But  how  can  you  know?" 

"It's  a  letter  from  me." 

"Then  tell  me  yourself  what's  in  it." 

"No,  I  can't  tell  you  that." 

He  looked  hard  at  her.  She  turned  scarlet,  her  eyes 
growing  wild  with  alarm.  "I  guess  I  will  read  that 
letter  anyway,"  said  Ingmar,  and  began  to  tear  open  the 
envelope. 

"O  Heavenly  Father!"  she  cried,  "am  I  then  to  be 


THE  INGMARSSONS  39 

spared  nothing?  Ingmar,"  she  implored,  "read  it  in  a 
day  or  two — when  I  am  on  my  way  to  America." 

By  that  time  he  had  already  opened  the  letter  and  was 
scanning  it.  She  put  her  hand  over  the  paper.  "Listen 
to  me,  Ingmar!"  she  said.  "It  was  the  chaplain  who  got 
me  to  write  that  letter,  and  he  promised  not  to  send  it 
till  I  was  on  board  the  steamer.  Instead  he  sent  it  off  too 
soon.  You  have  no  right  to  read  it  yet;  wait  till  I'm  gone, 
Ingmar." 

Ingmar  gave  her  an  angry  look  and  jumped  out  of  the 
wagon,  so  that  he  might  read  the  letter  in  peace.  Brita 
was  as  much  excited  now  as  she  had  been  in  the  old  days, 
when  things  did  not  go  her  way. 

"What  I  say  in  that  letter  isn't  true.  The  chaplain 
talked  me  into  writing  it.  I  don't  love  you,  Ingmar." 

He  looked  up  from  the  paper  and  gazed  at  her  in  aston- 
ishment. Then  she  grew  silent,  and  the  lessons  in  humility 
which  she  had  learned  in  prison  profited  her  now.  After 
all  she  suffered  no  greater  embarrassment  than  she  de- 
served. 

Ingmar,  meanwhile,  stood  puzzling  over  the  letter. 
Suddenly,  with  an  impatient  snarl,  he  crumpled  it  up. 

"I  can't  make  this  out!"  he  said,  stamping  his  foot. 
"My  head's  all  in  a  muddle." 

He  went  up  to  Brita  and  gripped  her  by  the  arm. 

"Does  it  really  say  in  the  letter  that  you  care  for  me?" 
His  tone  was  shockingly  brutal,  and  the  look  of  him  was 
terrible. 

Brita  was  silent. 


40  JERUSALEM 

"Does  the  letter  say  that  you  care  for  me?"  he  repeated 
savagely. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  faintly. 

Then  his  face  became  horribly  distorted.  He  shook 
her  arm  and  thrust  it  from  him.  "How  you  can  lie!" 
he  said,  with  a  hoarse  and  angry  laugh.  "How  you  can 
lie!" 

"God  knows  I  have  prayed  night  and  day  that  I  might 
see  you  again  before  I  go!"  she  solemnly  avowed. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"  I'm  going  to  America,  of  course." 

"The  hell  you  are!" 

Ingmar  was  beside  himself.  He  staggered  a  few  steps 
into  the  woods  and  cast  himself  upon  the  ground.  And 
n.ow  it  was  his  turn  to  weep ! 

Brita  followed  him  and  sat  down  beside  him;  she  was 
so  happy  that  she  wanted  to  shout. 

"Ingmar,  little  Ingmar!"  she  said,  calling  him  by  his 
pet  name. 

"But  you  think  I'm  so  ugly!"  he  returned. 

"Of  course  I  do." 

Ingmar  pushed  her  hand  away. 

"Now  let  me  tell  you  something,"  said  Brita. 

"Tell  away." 

"Do  you  remember  what  you  said  in  court  three  years 
ago?" 

"I  do." 

"That  if  I  could  only  get  to  think  differently  of  you, 
you  would  marry  me?" 


THE  INGMARSSONS  41 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"It  was  after  that  I  began  to  care  for  you.  I  had  never 
imagined  that  any  mortal  could  say  such  a  thing.  It 
seemed  almost  unbelievable  your  saying  it  to  me,  after 
all  I  had  done  to  you.  As  I  saw  you  that  day,  I  thought 
you  better  looking  than  all  the  others,  and  you  were  wiser 
than  any  of  them,  and  the  only  one  with  whom  it  would  be 
good  to  share  one's  life.  I  fell  so  deeply  in  love  with  you 
that  it  seemed  as  if  you  belonged  to  me,  and  I  to  you. 
At  first  I  took  it  for  granted  that  you  would  come  and 
fetch  me,  but  later  I  hardly  dared  think  it." 

Ingmar  raised  his  head.  "Then  why  didn't  you 
write?"  he  asked. 

"But  I  did  write." 

"Asking  me  to  forgive  you,  as  if  that  were  anything  to 
write  about!" 

"What  should  I  have  written?" 

"About  the  other  thing." 

"How  would  I  have  dared — I?" 

"I  came  mighty  near  not  coming  at  all." 

"But  Ingmar!  do  you  suppose  I  could  have  written 
love  letters  to  you  after  all  I  had  done!  My  last  day  in 
prison  I  wrote  to  you  because  the  chaplain  said  I  must. 
When  I  gave  him  the  letter,  he  promised  not  to  send  it  until 
I  was  well  on  my  way." 

Ingmar  took  her  hand  and  flattened  it  against  the 
earth,  then  slapped  it. 

"I  could  beat  you!"  he  said. 

"You  may  do  with  me  what  you  will,  Ingmar." 


42  JERUSALEM 

He  looked  up  into  her  face,  upon  which  suffering  had 
wrought  a  new  kind  of  beauty.  "And  I  came  so  near 
letting  you  go ! "  he  sighed. 

"You  just  had  to  come,  I  suppose." 

"Let  me  tell  you  that  I  didn't  care  for  you." 

"I  don't  wonder  at  that." 

"I  felt  relieved  when  I  heard  that  you  were  to  be  sent 
to  America." 

"Yes,  father  wrote  me  that  you  were  pleased." 

"Whenever  I  looked  at  mother,  I  felt  somehow  that  I 
couldn't  ask  her  to  accept  a  daughter-in-law  like  you." 

"No,  it  would  never  do,  Ingmar." 

"I've  had  to  put  up  with  a  lot  on  your  account;  no  one 
would  notice  me  because  of  my  treatment  of  you." 

"Now  you  are  doing  what  you  threatened  to  do,"  said 
Brita.  "You're  striking  me." 

"I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  how  mad  I  am  at  you." 

She  kept  still. 

"When  I  think  of  all  I've  had  to  stand  these  last  few 
weeks "  he  went  on. 

"But  Ingmar " 

"Oh,  I'm  not  angry  about  that,  but  at  the  thought  of 
how  near  I  came  to  letting  you  go!" 

"Didn't  you  love  me,  Ingmar?" 

"No,  indeed." 

"Not  during  the  whole  journey  home?" 

"No,  not  for  a  second!     I  was  just  put  out  with  you." 

"When  did  you  change?" 

"When  I  got  your  letter." 


THE  INGMARSSONS  43 

"I  saw  that  your  love  was  over;  that  was  why  I  did 
not  want  you  to  know  that  mine  was  but  just  beginning." 

Ingmar  chuckled. 

"What  amuses  you,  Ingmar?" 

"I'm  thinking  of  how  we  sneaked  out  of  church,  and  of 
the  kind  of  welcome  we  got  at  the  Ingmar  Farm." 

"And  you  can  laugh  at  that?" 

"Why  not  as  well  laugh?  I  suppose  we'll  have  to 
take  to  the  road,  like  tramps.  Wonder  what  father  would 
say  to  that?" 

"You  may  laugh,  Ingmar,  but  this  can't  be;  it  can't 
be!" 

"I  think  it  can,  for  now  I  don't  care  a  damn  about  any- 
thing or  anybody  but  you!" 

Brita  was  ready  to  cry,  but  he  just  made  her  tell  him 
again  and  again  how  often  she  had  thought  of  him,  and 
how  much  she  had  longed  for  him.  Little  by  little  he 
became  as  quiet  as  a  child  listening  to  a  lullaby.  It  was 
all  so  different  from  what  Brita  had  expected.  She  had 
thought  of  talking  to  him  about  her  crime,  if  he  came  for 
her,  and  the  weight  of  it.  She  would  have  liked  to  tell 
either  him  or  her  mother,  or  whoever  had  come  for  her, 
how  unworthy  she  was  of  them.  But  not  a  word  of 
this  had  she  been  allowed  to  speak. 

Presently  he  said  very  gently: 

"There  is  something  you  want  to  tell  me?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  are  thinking  about  it  all  the  time?" 

"Day  and  night!" 


44  JERUSALEM 

"And  it  gets  sort  of  mixed  in  with  everything?" 

"That's  true." 

"Now  tell  me  about  it,  so  there  will  be  two  instead  of 
one  to  bear  it." 

He  sat  looking  into  her  eyes;  they  were  like  the  eyes  of  a 
poor,  hunted  fawn.  But  as  she  spoke  they  became  calmer. 

"Now  you  feel  better,"  he  said  when  she  had  finished. 

"I  feel  as  if  a  great  weight  had  been  lifted  from  my 
heart." 

"That  is  because  we  are  two  to  bear  it.  Now,  perhaps, 
you  won't  want  to  go  away." 

"Indeed  I  should  love  to  stay!"  she  said. 

"Then  let  us  go  home,"  said  Ingmar,  rising. 

"No,  I'm  afraid!" 

"Mother  is  not  so  terrible,"  he  laughed,  "when  she 
sees  that  one  has  a  mind  of  one's  own." 

"No,  Ingmar,  I  could  never  turn  her  out  of  her  home. 
I  have  no  choice  but  to  go  to  America." 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you  something,"  said  Ingmar,  with 
a  mysterious  smile.  "You  needn't  be  the  least  bit  afraid, 
for  there  is  some  one  who  will  help  us." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"It's  father.  He'll  see  to  it  that  everything  comes  out 
right." 

There  was  some  one  coming  along  the  forest  road.  It 
was  Kaisa.  But  as  she  was  not  bearing  the  familiar  yoke, 
with  the  baskets,  they  hardly  knew  her  at  first. 

"Good-day  to  you!"  greeted  Ingmar  and  Brita,  and 
the  old  woman  came  up  and  shook  hands  with  them. 


THE  INGMARSSONS  45 

"Well,  I  declare,  here  you  sit,  and  all  the  folks  from 
trie  farm  out  looking  for  you!  You  were  in  such  a  hurry 
to  get  out  of  church,"  the  old  woman  went  on,  "that  I 
never  got  to  meet  you  at  all.  So  I  went  down  to  the  farm 
to  pay  my  respects  to  Brita.  When  I  got  there  who 
should  I  see  but  the  Dean,  and  he  was  in  the  house  call- 
ing Mother  Martha  at  the  top  of  his  lungs  before  I  even 
had  a  chance  to  say  'how  d'ye  do.'  And  before  he  had 
so  much  as  shaken  hands  with  her,  he  was  crying  out: 
'Now,  Mother  Martha,  you  can  be  proud  of  Ingmar! 
It's  plain  now  that  he  belongs  to  the  old  stock;  so  we 
must  begin  to  call  him  Big  Ingmar/ 

"Mother  Martha,  as  you  know,  never  says  very  much; 
she  just  stood  there  tying  knots  in  her  shawl.  'What's 
this  you're  telling  me?'  she  said  finally.  'He  has  brought 
Brita  home,'  the  Dean  explained,  'and,  believe  me,  Mother 
Martha,  he  will  be  honoured  and  respected  for  it  as  long 
as  he  lives.'  'You  don't  tell  me,'  said  the  old  lady.  'I 
could  hardly  go  on  with  the  service  when  I  saw  them  sit- 
ting in  church;  it  was  a  better  sermon  than  any  I  could 
ever  preach.  Ingmar  will  be  a  credit  to  us  all,  as  his 
father  before  him  was/  'The  Dean  brings  us  great  news,' 
said  Mother  Martha.  'Isn't  he  home  yet?'  asked  the 
Dean.  'No,  he  is  not  at  home;  but  they  may  have  stopped 
at  Bergskog  first/" 

"Did  mother  really  say  that?"  cried  Ingmar. 

"Why,  of  course  she  did;  and  while  we  sat  waiting  for 
you  to  appear,  she  sent  out  one  messenger  after  the  other 
to  look  for  you." 


46  JERUSALEM 

Kaisa  kept  up  a  steady  stream  of  talk,  but  Ingmar  no 
longer  heard  what  she  said.  His  thoughts  were  far  away. 
"I  come  into  the  living-room,  where  father  sits  with  all 
the  old  Ingmars.  'Good-day  to  you,  Big  Ingmar  Ing- 
marsson,'  says  father,  rising  and  coming  toward  me.  'The 
same  to  you,  father,'  says  I,  'and  thank  you  for  your  help.' 
'Now  you'll  be  well  married,'  says  father,  'and  then  the 
other  matters  will  all  right  themselves/  'But,  father, 
it  could  never  have  turned  out  so  well  if  you  hadn't  stood 
by  me.'  'That  was  nothing,'  says  father.  'All  we  Ing. 
mars  need  do  is  to  walk  in  the  ways  of  God." 


BOOK  TWO 


AT  THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S 

IN  THE  early  eighties  there  was  no  one  in  the  parish 
where  the  old  Ingmarsson  family  lived  who  would 
have  thought  of  embracing  any  new  kirod  of  faith  or 
attending  any  new  form  of  sacred  service.  That  new 
sects  had  sprung  up,  here  and  there,  in  other  Dalecarlian 
parishes,  and  that  people  went  out  into  rivers  and  lakes 
to  be  immersed  in  accordance  with  the  new  rites  of  the 
Baptists,  was  known;  but  folks  only  laughed  at  it  all  and 
said:  "That  sort  of  thing  may  suit  those  who  live  at 
Applebo  and  in  Gagnef,  but  it  can  never  touch  our  parish." 

The  people  of  that  parish  clung  to  their  old  customs  and 
habits,  one  of  which  was  a  regular  attendance  at  church 
on  Sundays;  every  one  that  could  go  went,  even  in  the 
severest  winter  weather.  Then,  of  all  times,  it  was  almost 
a  necessity;  with  the  thermometer  at  twenty  below  zero 
outside,  it  would  have  been  beyond  human  endurance  to 
sit  in  the  unheated  church  had  it  not  been  packed  to  the 
doors  with  people. 

It  could  not  be  said  of  the  parishioners  that  they  turned 
out  in  such  great  numbers  because  they  had  a  particularly 
brilliant  pastor  or  one  who  had  any  special  gift  for  ex- 
pounding the  Scriptures.  In  those  days  folks  went  to 
church  to  praise  God  and  not  to  be  entertained  by  fine 
sermons.  On  the  way  home,  when  fighting  against  the 

49 


5o  JERUSALEM 

cutting  wind  on  an  open  country  road,  one  thought:  "Our 
Lord  must  have  noticed  that  you  were  at  church  this 
cold  morning."  That  was  the  main  thing.  It  was  no 
fault  of  theirs  if  the  preacher  had  said  nothing  more 
than  he  had  been  heard  to  say  every  Sunday  since  his 
appointment  to  the  pastorate. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  majority  seemed  perfectly 
satisfied  with  what  they  got.  They  knew  that  what  the 
pastor  read  to  them  was  the  Word  of  God,  and  therefore 
they  found  it  altogether  beautiful.  Only  the  school- 
master and  one  or  two  of  the  more  intelligent  farmers 
occasionally  said  among  themselves:  "The  parson  seems 
to  have  only  one  sermon;  he  talks  of  nothing  but  God's 
wisdom  and  God's  government.  All  that  is  well  enough 
so  long  as  the  Dissenters  keep  away.  But  this  stronghold 
is  poorly  defended  and  would  fall  at  the  first  attack." 

Lay  preachers  generally  passed  by  this  parish.  "  What's 
the  good  of  going  there?"  they  used  to  say.  "Those 
people  don't  want  to  be  awakened."  Not  only  the  lay 
preachers,  but  even  all  the  "awakened  souls"  in  the 
neighbouring  parishes  looked  upon  the  Ingmarssons  and 
their  fellow-parishioners  as  great  sinners,  and  whenever 
they  caught  the  sound  of  the  bells  from  their  church  they 
would  say  the  bells  were  tolling,  "Sleep  in  your  sins! 
Sleep  in  your  sins!" 

The  whole  congregation,  old  and  young  alike,  were 
furious  when  they  learned  that  people  spoke  in  that  way 
of  their  bells.  They  knew  that  their  folks  never  forgot 
to  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer  whenever  the  church  bells 


AT  THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  51 

rang,  and  that  every  evening,  at  the  time  of  the  Angelas, 
the  menfolk  uncovered  their  heads,  the  women  courtesied, 
and  everybody  stood  still  about  as  long  as  it  takes  to 
say  an  Our  Father.  All  who  have  lived  in  that  parish 
must  acknowledge  that  God  never  seemed  so  mighty  and 
so  honoured  as  on  summer  evenings,  when  scythes  were 
rested,  and  plows  were  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  furrow, 
and  the  seed  wagon  was  halted  in  the  midst  of  the  load- 
ing, simply  at  the  stroke  of  a  bell.  It  was  as  if  they  knew 
that  our  Lord  at  that  moment  was  hovering  over  the 
parish  on  an  evening  cloud — great  and  powerful  and  good 
— breathing  His  blessing  upon  the  whole  community. 

None  of  your  college-bred  men  had  ever  taught  in  that 
parish.  The  schoolmaster  was  just  a  plain,  old-fashioned 
farmer,  who  was  self-taught.  He  was  a  capable  man 
who  could  manage  a  hundred  children  single-handed. 
For  thirty  years  and  more  he  had  been  the  only  teacher 
there,  and  was  looked  up  to  by  everybody.  The  school- 
master seemed  to  feel  that  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the 
entire  congregation  rested  with  him,  and  was  therefore 
quite  concerned  at  their  having  called  a  parson  who  was 
no  kind  of  a  preacher.  However,  he  held  his  peace  as 
long  as  it  was  only  a  question  of  introducing  a  new  form 
of  baptism,  and  elsewhere  at  that;  but  on  learning  that 
there  had  also  been  some  changes  in  the  administration 
of  the  Holy  Communion  and  that  people  were  beginning 
to  gather  in  private  homes  to  partake  of  the  Sacrament, 
he  could  no  longer  remain  passive.  Although  a  poor 
man  himself,  he  managed  to  persuade  some  of  the  leading 


52  JERUSALEM 

citizens  to  raise  the  money  to  build  a  mission  house. 
"  You  know  me,"  he  said  to  them.  "  I  only  want  to  preach 
in  order  to  strengthen  people  in  the  old  faith.  What 
would  be  the  natural  result  if  the  lay  preachers  were  to 
come  upon  us,  with  their  new  baptism  and  their  new 
Sacrament,  if  there  were  no  one  to  tell  the  people  what 
was  the  true  doctrine  and  what  the  false?" 

The  schoolmaster  was  as  well  liked  by  the  clergyman  as 
by  every  one  else.  He  and  the  parson  were  frequently 
seen  strolling  together  along  the  road  between  the  school- 
house  and  the  parsonage,  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth, 
as  if  they  had  no  end  of  things  to  say  to  each  other.  The 
parson  would  often  drop  in  at  the  schoolmaster's  of  an 
evening  to  sit  in  the  cozy  kitchen  by  an  open  fire  and  chat 
with  the  schoolmaster's  wife,  Mother  Stina.  At  times  he 
came  night  after  night.  He  had  a  dreary  time  of  it  at 
home;  his  wife  was  always  ailing,  and  there  was  neither 
order  nor  comfort  in  his  house. 

One  winter's  evening  the  schoolmaster  and  his  wife 
were  sitting  by  the  kitchen  fire,  talking  in  earnest  whis- 
pers, while  a  little  girl  of  twelve  played  by  herself  in  a 
corner  of  the  room.  The  little  girl  was  their  daughter, 
and  her  name  was  Gertrude.  She  was  a  fair  little  lass, 
with  flaxen  hair  and  plump,  rosy  cheeks,  but  she  did  not 
have  that  wise  and  prematurely  old  look  which  one  so 
often  sees  in  the  children  of  schoolmasters. 

The  corner  in  which  she  sat  was  her  playground.  There 
she  had  gathered  together  a  variety  of  things:  bits  of 
coloured  glass,  broken  teacups  and  saucers,  pebbles  fron? 


AT  THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  53 

the  banks  of  the  river,  little  square  blocks  of  wood,  and 
more  rubbish  of  the  same  sort. 

She  had  been  let  play  in  peace  all  the  evening;  neither 
her  father  nor  her  mother  had  disturbed  her.  Busy  as 
she  was  she  did  not  want  to  be  reminded  of  lessons  and 
chores.  It  didn't  look  as  if  there  were  going  to  be  any 
extra  sums  to  do  for  father  that  night,  she  thought. 

She  had  a  big  work  in  hand,  the  little  girl  back  there  in 
her  corner.  Nothing  less  than  making  a  whole  parish! 
She  was  going  to  build  up  the  entire  district  with  both 
church  and  schoolhouse;  the  river  and  the  bridge  were 
also  to  be  included.  Everything  had  to  be  quite  complete, 
of  course. 

She  had  already  got  a  good  part  of  it  done.  The  whole 
wreath  of  hills  that  went  round  the  parish  was  made  up 
of  smaller  and  larger  stones.  In  all  the  crevices  she  had 
planted  forests  of  little  spruce  twigs,  and  with  two  jagged 
stones  she  had  erected  Klack  Mountain  and  Olaf's  Peak 
on  either  side  of  the  Dal  River.  The  long  valley  in 
between  the  mountains  had  been  covered  with  mould 
taken  from  one  of  her  mother's  flowerpots.  So  far  every- 
thing was  all  right,  only  she  had  not  been  able  to  make  the 
valley  blossom.  But  she  comforted  herself  by  pretend- 
ing it  was  early  springtime,  before  grass  and  grain  had 
sprouted. 

The  broad,  beautiful  Dal  River  that  flows  through  the 
valley  she  had  managed  to  lay  out  effectively  with  a  long 
and  narrow  piece  of  glass,  and  the  floating  bridge  connect- 
ing both  sides  of  the  parish  had  been  rocking  on  the  water 


54  JERUSALEM 

this  long  while.  The  more  distant  farms  and  settlements 
were  marked  off  by  pieces  of  red  brick.  Farthest  north, 
amid  fields  and  meadows,  lay  the  Ingmar  Farm.  To  the 
east  was  the  village  of  Kolasen,  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain. At  the  extreme  south,  where  the  river,  with  rapids 
and  falls,  leaves  the  valley  and  rushes  on  over  the  moun- 
tain, was  Bergsana  Foundry. 

The  entire  landscape  was  now  ready,  with  country 
roads  laid  out  along  the  river,  sanded  and  gravelled. 
Groves  had  also  been  set  out,  here  and  there,  on  the  plains 
and  near  the  cottages.  The  little  girl  had  only  to  cast 
a  glance  at  her  structure  of  glass  and  stone  and  earth  and 
twigs  to  see  before  her  the  whole  parish.  And  she  thought 
it  all  very  beautiful. 

Time  after  time  she  raised  her  head  to  call  her  mother 
and  show  her  what  she  had  done,  then  changed  her  mind. 
She  had  always  found  it  wiser  not  to  call  attention  to 
herself.  But  the  most  difficult  work  of  all  was  yet  to 
come:  the  building  up  of  the  town  on  both  sides  of  the 
river.  It  meant  much  shifting  about  of  stones  and  bits 
of  glass.  The  sheriff's  house  wanted  to  crowd  out  the 
merchant's  shop;  there  was  no  room  for  the  judge's  house 
next  door  to  the  doctor's.  There  were  the  church  and 
the  parsonage,  the  drug-store  and  post-office,  the  peas- 
ant homesteads,  with  their  barns  and  outhouses,  the  inn, 
the  hunter's  lodge,  the  telegraph  station.  To  remember 
everything  was  no  small  task! 

Finally,  the  whole  town  of  white  and  red  houses  stood 
embedded  in  green.  Now  there  was  only  one  thing  left: 


AT  THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  55 

she  had  worked  hard  to  get  everything  else  done  so  as  to 
begin  on  the  schoolhouse.  She  wanted  plenty  of  space 
for  the  school,  which  was  to  be  built  on  the  riverside,  and 
must  have  a  big  yard,  with  a  flagpole  right  in  the  middle 
of  the  lawn. 

She  had  saved  all  her  best  blocks  for  the  schoolhouse. 
Now  she  wondered  how  she  had  best  go  about  it.  She 
wanted  it  to  be  just  like  their  school,  with  a  big  classroom 
on  the  ground  floor  and  another  upstairs;  then  there  was 
the  kitchen  and  also  the  big  room  where  she  and  her  par- 
ents lived.  But  all  that  would  take  a  good  while.  "They 
won't  leave  me  in  peace  long  enough,"  she  said  to  herself. 

Just  then  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  entry;  some  one 
was  stamping  off  snow.  In  a  twinkling  she  went  ahead 
with  her  building.  "Here  comes  the  parson  to  chat 
with  father  and  mother,"  she  thought.  Now  she  would 
have  the  whole  evening  to  herself.  And  with  renewed 
courage  she  began  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  schoolhouse 
as  big  as  half  the  parish. 

Her  mother,  who  had  also  heard  the  steps  in  the  hall, 
got  up  quickly  and  drew  an  old  armchair  up  to  the  fire- 
place. Then  turning  to  her  husband,  she  said:  "Shall 
you  tell  him  about  it  to-night?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  schoolmaster,  "as  soon  as  I  can 
get  round  to  it." 

Presently  the  pastor  came  in,  half  frozen  and  glad  to 
be*  in  a  warm  room  where  he  could  sit  by  an  open  fire.  He 
was  very  talkative,  as  usual.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a 
more  likable  man  than  the  parson  when  he  came  in  of  an 


56  JERUSALEM 

evening  to  chat  about  all  sorts  of  things,  big  and  little. 
He  spoke  with  such  ease  and  assurance  of  everything 
pertaining  to  this  world,  that  one  could  scarcely  believe 
that  he  and  the  dull  preacher  were  one  and  the  same  per- 
son. But  if  you  happened  to  speak  to  him  about  spiritual 
things  he  grew  red  in  the  face,  began  fishing  for  words, 
and  never  said  anything  that  was  convincing,  unless  he 
chanced  to  mention  that  "God  governs  wisely." 

When  the  parson  had  settled  himself  comfortably,  the 
schoolmaster  suddenly  turned  to  him  and  said  in  a  cheery 
tone: 

"Now  I  must  tell  you  the  news:  I'm  going  to  build  a 
mission  house." 

The  clergyman  became  as  white  as  a  sheet  and  sank 
back  in  his  chair. 

"What  are  you  saying,  Storm?"  he  gasped.  "Are 
they  really  thinking  of  building  a  mission  house  here? 
Then  what's  to  become  of  me  and  the  church?  Are  we 
to  be  dispensed  with?" 

"The  church  and  the  pastor  will  be  needed  just  the 
same,"  returned  the  schoolmaster  with  a  confident  air. 
"It  is  my  purpose  that  the  mission  house  shall  promote 
the  welfare  of  the  church.  With  so  many  schisms  crop- 
ping up  all  over  the  country,  the  church  is  sorely  in  need 
of  help." 

"I  thought  you  were  my  friend,  Storm,"  said  the  par- 
son, mournfully.  Only  a  few  moments  before  he  had 
come  in  confident  and  happy,  and  now  all  at  once  his  spirit 
was  gone,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  were  entirely  done  for. 


AT  THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  57 

The  schoolmaster  understood  quite  well  why  the  pastor 
was  so  distressed.  He  and  every  one  else  knew  that  at 
one  time  the  clergyman  had  been  a  man  of  rare  promise; 
but  in  his  student  days  he  had  "  gone  the  pace,"  so  to  speak, 
and,  in  consequence,  had  suffered  a  stroke.  After  that 
he  was  never  the  same.  Sometimes  he  seemed  to  forget 
that  he  was  only  the  ruin  of  a  man;  but  when  reminded 
of  it,  a  sense  of  deep  despondency  came  over  him.  Now 
he  sat  there  as  if  paralyzed.  It  was  a  long  time  before 
any  one  ventured  to  speak. 

"You  mustn't  take  it  like  that,  Parson,"  the  school- 
master said  at  last,  trying  to  make  his  voice  very  soft  and 
low. 

"Hush,  Storm!  I  know  that  I'm  not  a  great  preacher; 
still  I  couldn't  have  believed  it  possible  that  you  would 
wish  to  take  the  living  from  me." 

Storm  made  a  gesture  of  protest,  which  said,  in  effect, 
that  anything  of  the  sort  had  never  entered  his  mind,  but 
he  had  not  the  courage  to  put  it  into  words. 

The  schoolmaster  was  a  man  of  sixty  and,  despite  all 
the  work  and  responsibility  which  had  fallen  to  his  lot, 
he  was  still  master  of  his  forces.  There  was  a  great  con- 
trast between  him  and  the  parson.  Storm  was  one  of 
the  biggest  men  in  Dalecarlia.  His  head  was  covered 
with  a  mass  of  black  bushy  hair,  his  skin  was  as  dark  as 
bronze,  and  his  features  were  strong  and  clear  cut.  He 
looked  singularly  powerful  beside  the  pastor,  who  was  a 
little  narrow-chested,  bald-headed  man. 

The  schoolmaster's  wife  thought  that  her  husband,  as 


S8  JERUSALEM 

the  stronger,  ought  to  give  in,  and  motioned  to  him  to 
drop  the  matter.  Whatever  of  regret  he  may  have  felt, 
there  was  nothing  in  his  manner  to  indicate  that  he  had 
any  idea  of  relinquishing  his  project. 

Then  the  schoolmaster  began  to  speak  plainly  and  to 
the  point.  He  said  he  was  certain  that  before  long  the 
heretics  would  invade  their  parish;  therefore,  it  was  very 
necessary  that  they  should  have  a  meeting  place  where 
one  could  talk  to  the  people  in  a  more  informal  way  than 
at  a  regular  church  service;  where  one  might  choose  one's 
own  text,  expound  the  whole  Bible,  and  interpret  its 
most  difficult  passages  to  the  people. 

His  wife  again  signed  to  him  to  keep  still.  She  knew 
what  the  clergyman  was  thinking  while  her  husband 
talked.  "So  I  haven't  taught  them  anything,  and  I 
haven't  given  them  any  sort  of  protection  against  unbe- 
lief? I  must  be  a  poor  specimen  of  a  pastor  when  the 
schoolmaster  in  my  own  parish  thinks  himself  a  better 
preacher  than  I." 

The  schoolmaster,  however,  did  not  keep  still,  but  went 
on  talking  of  all  that  must  be  done  to  protect  the  flock 
from  the  wolves. 

"I  haven't  seen  any  wolves,"  said  the  pastor. 

"But  I  know  they  are  on  their  way." 

"And  you,  Storm,  are  opening  the  door  to  them,"  de- 
clared the  minister,  rising.  The  schoolmaster's  talk  had 
irritated  him.  The  blood  mounted  to  his  face,  and  he 
regained  a  little  of  his  old  dignity. 

"My  dear  Storm,  let  us  drop  the  subject,"  he  said. 


AT  THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  59 

Then  turning  to  the  housewife,  he  passed  some  pleasant 
remark  about  the  last  pretty  bride  she  had  dressed.  For 
Mother  Stina  dressed  all  the  brides  in  the  parish. 

Peasant  woman  though  she  was,  she  understood  how 
it  must  hurt  him  to  be  so  cruelly  reminded  of  his  own 
impotence.  She  wept  from  compassion,  and  could  not 
answer  him  for  the  tears;  so  the  pastor  had  to  do  most  of 
the  talking. 

Meanwhile,  he  kept  thinking:  "Oh,  if  I  only  had  some 
of  the  power  and  the  capacity  of  my  younger  days,  I  would 
convince  this  peasant  at  once  of  the  wrong  he  is  doing." 
With  that  he  turned  again  to  the  schoolmaster: 

"Where  did  you  get  the  money,  Storm?"  he  asked. 

"A  company  has  been  formed,"  Storm  explained;  then 
he  mentioned  the  names  of  several  men  who  had  pledged 
their  support,  just  to  show  the  parson  that  they  were  the 
kind  of  people  who  would  harm  neither  the  church  nor 
its  pastor. 

"Is  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  in  it,  too?"  the  parson  ex- 
claimed. The  effect  of  this  was  like  a  deathblow.  "And 
to  think  that  I  was  as  sure  of  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  as  I 
had  been  of  you,  Storm!" 

He  said  nothing  more  about  this  just  then,  but  instead 
turned  to  Mother  Stina  and  talked  to  her.  He  must  have 
seen  that  she  was  crying,  but  acted  as  if  he  had  not  noticed 
it.  In  a  little  while  he  again  addressed  the  schoolmaster. 

"Drop  it,  Storm!"  he  begged.  "Drop  it  for  my  sake. 
You  wouldn't  like  it  if  somebody  put  up  another  school 
next  to  yours." 


60  JERUSALEM 

The  schoolmaster  sat  gazing  at  the  floor  and  reflected 
a  moment.  Presently  he  said,  almost  reluctantly,  "I 
can't,  Parson." 

For  fully  ten  minutes  there  was  a  dead  silence.  Where- 
upon the  pastor  put  on  his  overcoat  and  cap,  and  went 
toward  the  door. 

The  whole  evening  he  had  been  trying  to  find  words 
with  which  to  prove  to  Storm  that  he  was  not  only  doing 
harm  to  the  pastor  with  this  undertaking,  but  he  was 
undermining  the  parish.  Although  thoughts  and  words 
kept  crowding  into  his  head,  he  could  neither  arrange 
them  into  an  orderly  sequence  nor  give  utterance  to  them, 
because  he  was  a  broken  man.  Walking  toward  the  door, 
he  espied  Gertrude  sitting  in  her  corner  playing  with  her 
blocks  and  bits  of  glass.  He  stopped  and  looked  at  her. 
Evidently  she  had  not  heard  a  word  of  the  conversation, 
for  her  eyes  sparkled  with  delight  and  her  cheeks  were  like 
fresh-blown  roses. 

The  pastor  was  startled  at  the  sight  of  all  this  inno- 
cent happiness  of  the  child  in  contrast  to  his  own  heart 
heaviness. 

"What  are  you  making?"  he  asked,  and  went  up  to 
her. 

The  little  girl  had  got  through  with  her  parish  long 
before  that;  in  fact,  she  had  already  pulled  it  down  and 
started  something  new. 

"If  you  had  only  come  a  minute  sooner!"  exclaimed 
the  child.  "I  had  made  such  a  beautiful  parish,  with 
both  church  and  schoolhouse " 


AT  THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  61 

"But  where  is  it  now?" 

"Oh,  I've  destroyed  the  parish,  and  now  I'm  building  a 
Jerusalem,  and 

"What?"  interrupted  the  parson.  "Have  you  de- 
stroyed the  parish  in  order  to  build  a  Jerusalem?" 

"Yes,"  said  Gertrude,  "and  it  was  such  a  fine  parish! 
But  we  read  about  Jerusalem  yesterday  in  school,  and 
now  I  have  pulled  down  the  parish  to  build  a  Jerusalem." 

The  preacher  stood  regarding  the  child.  He  put  his 
hand  to  his  forehead  and  thought  a  moment,  then  he 
said :  "  It  is  surely  some  one  greater  than  you  that  speaks 
through  your  mouth." 

The  child's  words  seemed  to  him  so  extraordinarily 
prophetic  that  he  kept  repeating  them  to  himself,  over 
and  over.  Gradually  his  thoughts  drifted  back  into  their 
old  groove,  and  he  began  to  ponder  the  ways  of  Providence 
and  the  means  by  which  He  works  His  will. 

Presently  he  went  back  to  the  schoolmaster,  his  eyes 
shining  with  a  new  light,  and  said  in  his  usual  cheery 
tone : 

"I'm  no  longer  angry  at  you,  Storm.  You  are  only 
doing  what  you  must  do.  All  my  life  I  have  been  pon- 
dering the  ways  of  Providence,  and  I  can't  seem  to  get 
any  light  on  them.  Nor  do  I  understand  this  thing,  but 
I  understand  that  you  are  doing  what  you  needs  must 
do." 


"AND  THEY  SAW  HEAVEN  OPEN1 


"AND  THEY  SAW  HEAVEN  OPEN" 

THE  spring  the  mission  house  was  built  there  was 
a  great  thaw,  and  the  Dal  River  rose  to  an 
alarming  height.  And  what  quantities  of  water 
that  spring  brought!  It  came  in  showers  from  the 
skies;  it  came  rushing  down  in  streams  from  the  mountain- 
sides, and  it  welled  out  of  the  earth;  water  ran  in  every 
wheel  rut  and  in  every  furrow.  All  this  water  found  it& 
way  to  the  river,  which  kept  rising  higher  and  higher,  and 
rolled  onward  with  greater  and  greater  force.  It  did 
not  present  its  usual  shiny  and  placid  appearance,  but 
had  turned  a  dirty  brown  from  all  the  muddy  water  that 
kept  flowing  in.  The  surging  stream,  filled  with  logs  and 
cakes  of  ice,  looked  strangely  weird  and  threatening. 

At  first  the  grown  folks  paid  no  special  heed  to  the 
spring  flood;  only  the  children  ran  down  to  the  banks  to 
watch  the  raging  river  and  all  that  it  carried  along. 

But  timber  and  ice  floes  were  not  the  only  things  that 
went  floating  by!  Presently  the  stream  came  driving 
with  washing  piers  and  bath  houses,  then  with  boats 
and  wreckage  of  bridges. 

"It  will  soon  be  taking  our  bridge,  too!"  the  children 
exclaimed.  They  felt  a  bit  uneasy,  but  were  glad  at  the 
same  time  that  something  so  extraordinary  was  likely  to 
happen. 

6s 


66  JERUSALEM 

Suddenly  a  huge  pine,  root  and  branch,  came  sailing 
past,  followed  by  a  white-stemmed  aspen  tree,  its  spread- 
ing branches  thick  with  buds  which  had  swelled  from 
being  so  long  in  the  water.  Close  upon  the  trees  came  a 
little  hay  shed,  bottom  upward;  it  was  still  full  of  hay  and 
straw,  and  floated  on  its  roof  like  a  boat  on  its  keel. 

But  when  things  of  that  sort  began  to  drift  past,  the 
grown-ups,  too,  bestirred  themselves.  They  realized 
now  that  the  river  had  overflowed  its  banks  somewhere 
up  north,  and  hurried  down  to  the  shores  with  poles  and 
boat  hooks,  to  haul  up  on  land  buildings  and  furniture. 

At  the  northern  end  of  the  parish,  where  the  houses 
were  scattered  and  people  were  scarce,  Ingmar  Ingmarsson 
alone  was  standing  on  the  bank,  gazing  out  at  the  river. 
He  was  then  almost  sixty,  and  looked  even  older.  His 
face  was  weatherbeaten  and  furrowed,  his  figure  bent; 
he  appeared  to  be  as  awkward  and  helpless  as  ever.  He 
stood  leaning  on  a  long,  heavy  boat  hook,  his  dull,  sleepy- 
looking  eyes  fixed  on  the  water.  The  river  raged  and 
foamed,  arrogantly  marching  past  with  all  that  it  had 
snatched  from  the  shores.  It  was  as  if  it  were  deriding 
the  peasant  for  his  slowness.  "Oh,  you're  not  the  one  to 
wrest  from  me  any  of  the  things  I'm  carrying  away!"  it 
seemed  to  say. 

Ingmar  Ingmarsson  made  no  attempt  to  rescue  any 
of  the  floating  bridges  or  boat  hulls  that  passed  quite 
close  to  the  bank.  "All  that  will  be  seen  to  down  at  the 
village,"  he  thought.  Not  for  a  second  did  his  gaze 
wander  from  the  river.  He  took  note  of  everything  that 


"AND  THEY  SAW  HEAVEN  OPEN"        67 

drifted  past.  All  at  once  he  sighted  something  bright 
and  yellow  floating  on  some  loosely  nailed  boards  quite  a 
distance  up  the  river.  "Ah,  this  is  what  I  have  been  ex- 
pecting all  along!"  he  said  aloud.  At  first  he  could  not 
quite  make  out  what  the  yellow  was;  but  for  one  who  knew 
how  little  children  in  Dalecarlia  are  dressed  it  was  easy 
to  guess.  "Those  must  be  youngsters  who  were  out  on 
a  washing  pier  playing,"  he  said,  "and  hadn't  the  sense 
to  get  back  on  land  before  the  river  took  them." 

It  was  not  long  until  the  peasant  saw  that  he  had  guessed 
rightly.  Now  he  could  distinctly  see  three  little  children, 
in  their  yellow  homespun  frocks  and  round  yellow  hats, 
being  carried  downstream  on  a  poorly  constructed  raft 
that  was  being  slowly  torn  apart  by  the  swift  current 
and  the  moving  ice  floes. 

The  children  were  still  a  long  way  off.  Big  Ingmar 
knew  there  was  a  bend  in  the  river  where  it  touched  his 
land.  If  God  in  His  mercy  would  only  direct  the  raft 
with  the  children  into  this  current,  he  thought,  he  might 
be  able  to  get  them  ashore. 

He  stood  very  still,  watching  the  raft.  All  at  once  it 
seemed  as  if  some  one  had  given  it  a  push;  it  swung  round 
and  headed  straight  for  the  shore.  By  that  time  the 
children  were  so  close  that  he  could  see  their  frightened 
little  faces  and  hear  their  cries.  But  they  were  still  too 
far  out  to  be  reached  by  the  boat  hook,  from  the  bank  at 
least;  so  he  hurried  down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  waded 
into  the  river. 

As  he  did  so,  he  had  a  strange  sort  of  feeling  that  some 


68  JERUSALEM 

one  was  calling  to  him  to  come  back.  "You  are  no  longer 
a  young  man,  Ingmar;  this  may  prove  a  perilous  business 
for  you!"  a  voice  said  to  him. 

He  reflected  a  moment,  wondering  whether  he  had  the 
right  to  risk  his  life.  The  wife,  whom  he  had  once  fetched 
from  the  prison,  had  died  during  the  winter,  and  since 
her  going  his  one  longing  had  been  that  he  might  soon 
follow.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  his  son  who 
needed  a  father's  care,  for  he  was  only  a  little  lad  and 
could  not  look  after  the  farm. 

"In  any  case,  it  must  be  as  God  wills,"  he  said. 

Now  Big  Ingmar  was  no  longer  either  awkward  or 
slow.  As  he  plunged  into  the  raging  river,  he  planted  his 
boat  hook  firmly  into  the  bottom,  so  as  not  to  be  carried 
away  by  the  current,  and  he  took  good  care  to  dodge  the 
floating  ice  and  driftwood.  When  the  raft  with  the  chil- 
dren was  quite  near,  he  pressed  his  feet  down  in  the  river 
bed,  thrust  out  his  boat  hook,  and  got  a  purchase  on  it. 

"Hold  on  tight!"  he  shouted  to  the  children,  for  just 
then  the  raft  made  a  sudden  turn  and  all  its  planks  creaked. 
But  the  wretched  structure  held  together,  and  Big  Ingmar 
managed  to  pull  it  out  of  the  strongest  current.  That 
done,  he  let  go  of  it,  for  he  knew  that  the  raft  would  now 
drift  shoreward  by  itself. 

Touching  bottom  with  his  boat  hook  again,  he  turned 
to  go  back  to  the  bank.  This  time,  however,  he  failed  to 
notice  a  huge  log  that  was  coming  toward  him  with  a  rush. 
It  caught  him  in  the  side  just  below  the  armpit.  It  was 
a  terrific  blow,  for  the  log  was  hurled  against  him  with  a 


"AND  THEY  SAW  HEAVEN  OPEN"        69 

violent  force  that  sent  him  staggering  in  the  water.  Yet 
he  kept  a  tight  grip  on  the  boat  hook  until  he  reached  the 
bank.  When  he  again  stood  on  firm  ground,  he  hardly 
dared  touch  his  body,  for  he  felt  that  his  chest  had  been 
crushed.  Then  his  mouth  suddenly  rilled  with  blood. 
"It's  all  up  with  you,  Ingmar!"  he  thought,  and  sank 
down  on  the  bank,  for  he  could  not  go  a  step  farther. 
The  little  children  whom  he  had  rescued  gave  the  alarm, 
and  soon  people  came  running  down  to  the  bank,  and  Big 
Ingmar  was  carried  home. 

The  pastor  was  called  in,  and  he  remained  at  the 
Ingmar  Farm  the  whole  afternoon.  On  his  way  home, 
he  stopped  at  the  schoolmaster's.  He  had  experienced 
things  in  the  course  of  the  day  which  he  felt  the  need  of 
telling  to  some  one  who  would  understand. 

Storm  and  Mother  Stina  were  deeply  grieved,  for  they 
had  already  heard  that  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  was  dead. 
The  clergyman,  on  the  other  hand,  looked  almost  radiant 
as  he  stepped  into  the  schoolmaster's  kitchen. 

Immediately  Storm  asked  the  pastor  if  he  had  been  in 
time. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "but  on  this  occasion  I  was  not  needed." 

"Weren't  you?"  said  Mother  Stina. 

"No,"  answered  the  pastor  with  a  mysterious  smile. 
"He  would  have  got  on  just  as  well  without  me.  Some- 
times it  is  very  hard  to  sit  by  a  deathbed,"  he  added. 

"It  is  indeed,"  nodded  the  schoolmaster. 

"Particularly  when  the  one  who  is  passing  from  among 
us  happens  to  be  the  best  man  in  your  parish." 


70  JERUSALEM 

"Just  so." 

"But  things  can  also  be  quite  different  from  what  one 
had  imagined." 

For  a  moment  the  pastor  sat  quietly  gazing  into  space; 
his  eyes  looked  clearer  than  usual  behind  the  spectacles. 

"Have  you,  Strong,  or  you,  Mother  Stina,  ever  heard 
of  the  wonderful  thing  that  once  happened  to  Big  Ingmar 
when  he  was  a  young  man?"  he  asked. 

The  schoolmaster  said  that  he  had  heard  many  won- 
derful things  about  him. 

"Why,  of  course;  but  this  is  the  most  wonderful  of  all! 
I  never  knew  of  it  myself  until  to-day.  Big  Ingmar  had 
a  good  friend  who  has  always  lived  in  a  little  cabin  on  his 
estate,"  the  pastor  continued. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "He  is  also 
named  Ingmar;  folks  call  him  Strong  Ingmar  by  way  of 
distinction." 

"True,"  said  the  pastor;  "his  father  named  him  Ingmar 
in  honour  of  the  master's  family.  One  Saturday  even~ 
ing,  at  midsummer,  when  the  nights  are  almost  as  light 
as  the  days,  Big  Ingmar  and  his  friend,  Strong  Ingmar* 
after  finishing  their  work,  put  on  their  Sunday  clothes 
and  went  down  to  the  village  in  quest  of  amusement." 
The  pastor  paused  a  moment,  and  pondered.  "I  can 
imagine  that  the  night  must  have  been  a  beautiful  one," 
he  went  on,  "clear  and  still — one  of  those  nights  when 
earth  and  sky  seem  to  exchange  hues,  the  sky  turning 
a  bright  green  while  the  earth  becomes  veiled  in  white 
mists,  lending  to  everything  a  white  or  bluish  tinge. 


"AND  THEY  SAW  HEAVEN  OPEN"        71 

When  Big  Ingmar  and  Strong  Ingmar  were  crossing  the 
bridge  to  the  village,  it  was  as  if  some  one  had  told  them 
to  stop  and  look  upward.  They  did  so.  And  they  saw 
heaven  open!  The  whole  firmament  had  been  drawn 
back  to  right  and  left,  like  a  pair  of  curtains,  and  the  two 
stood  there,  hand  in  hand,  and  beheld  all  the  glories  of 
heaven.  Have  you  ever  heard  anything  like  it,  Mother 
Stina,  or  you,  Storm?"  said  the  pastor  in  awed  tones. 
"Only  think  of  those  two  standing  on  the  bridge  and 
seeing  heaven  open!  But  what  they  saw  they  have  never 
divulged  to  a  soul.  Sometimes  they  would  tell  a  child 
or  a  kinsman  that  they  had  once  seen  heaven  open,  but 
they  never  spoke  of  it  to  outsiders.  But  the  vision  lived 
in  their  memories  as  their  greatest  treasure,  their  Holy  of 
Holies." 

The  pastor  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  heaved  a 
deep  sigh.  "I  have  never  before  heard  tell  of  such 
things."  His  voice  shook  a  little  as  he  proceeded.  "I 
only  wish  I  had  stood  on  the  bridge  with  Big  Ingmar  and 
Strong  Ingmar,  and  seen  heaven  open! 

"This  morning,  immediately  after  Big  Ingmar  had  been 
carried  home,  he  requested  that  Strong  Ingmar  be  sent 
for.  At  once  a  messenger  was  dispatched  to  the  croft 
to  fetch  him,  only  to  find  that  Strong  Ingmar  was  not  at 
home.  He  was  in  the  forest  somewhere,  chopping  fire- 
wood, and  was  not  easy  to  find.  Messenger  after  mes- 
senger went  in  search  of  him.  In  the  meantime,  Big 
Ingmar  felt  very  anxious  lest  he  should  not  get  to  see  his 
old  friend  again  in  this  life.  First  the  doctor  came,  then 


72  JERUSALEM 

I  came,  but  Strong  Ingmar  they  couldn't  seem  to  find. 
Big  Ingmar  took  very  little  notice  of  us.  He  was  sinking 
fast.  'I  shall  soon  be  gone,  Parson,'  he  said  to  me.  'I 
only  wish  I  might  see  Strong  Ingmar  before  I  go.'  He  was 
lying  on  the  broad  bed  in  the  little  chamber  off  the  living- 
room.  His  eyes  were  wide  open  and  he  seemed  to  be 
looking  all  the  while  at  something  that  was  far,  far  away, 
and  which  no  one  else  saw.  The  three  little  children  he 
had  rescued  sat  huddled  at  the  foot  of  his  bed.  When- 
ever his  eyes  wandered  for  an  instant  from  that  which  he 
saw  in  the  distance,  they  rested  upon  the  children,  and 
then  his  whole  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"At  last  they  had  succeeded  in  finding  the  crofter.  Big 
Ingmar  glanced  away  from  the  children  with  a  sigh  of 
relief  when  he  heard  Strong  Ingmar's  heavy  step  in  the 
hallway.  And  when  his  friend  came  over  to  the  bedside, 
he  took  his  hand  and  patted  it  gently,  saying:  'Do  you 
remember  the  time  when  you  and  I  stood  on  the  bridge 
and  saw  heaven  open?'  'As  if  I  could  ever  forget  that 
night  when  we  two  had  a  vision  of  Paradise!'  Strong 
Ingmar  responded.  Then  Big  Ingmar  turned  toward  him, 
his  face  beaming  as  if  he  had  the  most  glorious  news  to 
impart.  'Now  I'm  going  there,'  he  said.  Then  the 
crofter  bent  over  him  and  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 
*I  shall  come  after,'  he  said.  Big  Ingmar  nodded.  'But 
you  know  I  cannot  come  before  your  son  returns  from  the 
pilgrimage.'  'Yes,  yes,  I  know,'  Big  Ingmar  whispered. 
Then  he  drew  in  a  few  deep  breaths  and,  before  we  knew 
it,  he  was  gone  '" 


"AND  THEY  SAW  HEAVEN  OPEN"         73 

The  schoolmaster  and  his  wife  thought,  with  the  pastor, 
that  it  was  a  beautiful  death.  All  three  of  them  sat  pro- 
foundly silent  for  a  long  while. 

"But  what  could  Strong  Ingmar  have  meant,"  asked 
Mother  Stina  abruptly,  "when  he  spoke  of  the  pilgrim- 
age?" 

The  pastor  looked  up,  somewhat  perplexed.  "I  don't 
know,"  he  replied.  "Big  Ingmar  died  just  after  that  was 
said,  and  I  have  not  had  time  to  ponder  it."  He  fell  to 
thinking,  then  he  spoke  kind  of  half  to  himself:  "It  was 
a  strange  sort  of  thing  to  say,  you're  right  about  that, 
Mother  Stina." 

"You  know,  of  course,  that  it  has  been  said  of  Strong 
Ingmar  that  he  can  see  into  the  future?"  she  said  re- 
flectively. 

The  pastor  sat  stroking  his  forehead  in  an  effort  to 
collect  his  thoughts.  "The  ways  of  Providence  cannot 
be  reasoned  out  by  the  finite  mind,"  he  mused.  "I  can- 
not fathom  them,  yet  seeking  to  know  them  is  the  most 
satisfying  thing  in  all  the  world." 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR 

ATUMN  had  come  and  school  was  again  open. 
One  morning,  when  the  children  were  having 
their  recess,  the  schoolmaster  and  Gertrude  went 
into  the  kitchen  and  sat  down  at  the  table,  where  Mother 
Stina  served  them  with  coffee.  Before  they  had  finished 
their  cups  a  visitor  arrived. 

The  caller  was  a  young  peasant  named  Halvor  Hal- 
vorsson,  who  had  lately  opened  a  shop  in  the  village. 
He  came  from  Tims  Farm,  and  was  familiarly  known  as 
Tims  Halvor.  He  was  a  tall,  good-looking  chap  who  ap- 
peared to  be  somewhat  dejected.  Mother  Stina  asked 
him  also  to  have  some  coffee;  so  he  sat  down  at  the 
table,  helped  himself,  and  began  to  talk  to  the  school- 
master. 

Mother  Stina  sat  by  the  window  knitting;  from  where 
she  was  seated  she  could  look  down  the  road.  All  at 
once  she  grew  red  in  the  face  and  leaned  forward  to  get  a 
better  view.  Trying  to  appear  unconcerned,  she  said 
with  feigned  indifference:  "The  grand  folk  seem  to  be  out 
walking  to-day." 

Tims  Halvor  thought  he  detected  a  certain  something 
in  her  tone  that  sounded  a  bit  peculiar,  and  he  got 

77 


78  JERUSALEM 

up  and  looked  out.  He  saw  a  tall,  stoop-shouldered 
woman  and  a  half-grown  boy  coming  toward  the  school- 
house. 

"Unless  my  eyes  deceive  me,  that's  Karin,  daughter  of 
Ingmar!"  said  Mother  Stina. 

"  It's  Karin  all  right,"  Tims  Halvor  confirmed.  He  said 
nothing  more,  but  turned  away  from  the  window  and 
glanced  around  the  room,  as  if  trying  to  discover  some 
way  of  escape;  but  in  a  moment  he  quietly  went  back  to 
his  seat. 

The  summer  before,  when  Big  Ingmar  was  still  alive, 
Halvor  had  paid  court  to  Karin  Ingmarsson.  The  court- 
ship had  been  a  long  one,  with  many  ifs  and  buts  on  the 
part  of  her  family.  The  old  Ingmars  were  not  quite 
sure  that  he  was  good  enough  for  Karin.  It  had  not  been 
a  question  of  money,  for  Halvor  was  well-to-do;  his  father, 
however,  had  been  addicted  to  drink,  and  who  could  say 
but  that  this  failing  had  been  transmitted  to  the  son. 
However,  it  was  finally  decided  that  Halvor  should  have 
Karin.  The  wedding  day  was  fixed  and  they  had  asked 
to  have  the  banns  published.  But  before  the  day  set 
for  the  first  reading  Karin  and  Halvor  made  a  journey  to 
Falun,  to  purchase  the  wedding  ring  and  the  prayerbook. 
They  were  away  for  three  days,  and  when  they  got  back 
Karin  told  her  father  that  she  could  not  marry  Halvor. 
She  had  no  fault  to  find  with  him  save  that  on  one  oc- 
casion he  had  taken  a  drop  too  much,  and  she  feared  he 
might  become  like  his  father.  Big  Ingmar  then  said 
that  he  would  not  try  to  influence  her  against  her  better 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          79 

judgment,  so  Halvor  was  dismissed,  and  the  engagement 
was  off. 

Halvor  took  it  very  much  to  heart.  "You  are  heap- 
ing upon  me  shame  that  will  be  hard  to  bear,"  he  said. 
"What  will  people  think  if  you  throw  me  over  in  this 
way?  It  isn't  fair  to  treat  a  decent  man  like  that." 

But  Karin  was  not  to  be  moved,  and  ever  since  Halvor 
had  been  morose  and  unhappy.  He  could  not  forget  the 
injustice  that  had  been  done  him  by  the  Ingmarssons. 
And  here  sat  Halvor,  and  there  came  Karin!  What  would 
happen  next?  This  much  was  certain:  a  reconciliation 
was  out  of  the  question.  Since  the  previous  autumn 
Karin  had  been  married  to  one  Elof  Ersson.  She  and 
her  husband  lived  at  the  Ingmar  Farm,  which  they  had 
been  running  since  the  death  of  Big  Ingmar,  in  the  spring. 
Big  Ingmar  had  left  five  daughters  and  one  son,  but  the 
son  was  too  young  to  take  over  the  property. 

Meanwhile  Karin  had  come  in.  She  was  only  about 
two  and  twenty,  but  was  one  of  those  women  who  never 
look  real  young.  Most  people  thought  her  exceedingly 
plain,  for  she  favoured  her  father's  family  and  had  their 
heavy  eyelids,  their  sandy  hair,  and  hard  lines  about  the 
mouth.  But  the  schoolmaster  and  his  wife  were  pleased 
to  think  that  she  bore  such  a  striking  resemblance  to  the 
old  Ingmars.  When  Karin  saw  Halvor,  her  face  did  not 
change.  She  moved  about,  slowly  and  quietly,  and  greeted 
each  of  them  in  turn;  when  she  offered  her  hand  to  Halvor, 
he  put  out  his,  and  they  barely  touched  each  other  with 
the  tips  of  their  fingers.  Karin  always  stooped  a  little 


80  JERUSALEM 

and,  as  she  stood  before  Halvor,  with  head  bowed,  she 
seemed  to  be  more  bent  than  usual,  while  Halvor  looked 
taller  and  straighter  than  ever. 

"So  Karin  has  really  ventured  out  to-day?"  said  Mother 
Stina,  drawing  up  the  pastor's  chair  for  her. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "It's  easy  walking  now  that 
the  frost  has  set  in." 

"There  has  been  a  hard  frost  during  the  night,"  the 
schoolmaster  put  in. 

This  was  followed  by  a  dead  silence,  which  lasted  several 
minutes.  Presently  Halvor  got  up,  and  the  others  started, 
as  if  suddenly  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep. 

"I  must  get  back  to  the  shop,"  said  Halvor. 

"What's  your  hurry?"  asked  Mother  Stina. 

"I  hope  Halvor  isn't  going  on  my  account,"  said  Karin 
meekly. 

As  soon  as  Halvor  was  gone  the  tension  was  broken, 
and  the  schoolmaster  knew  at  once  what  to  say.  He 
looked  at  the  lad  Karin  had  brought  with  her,  and  of 
whom  no  one  had  taken  any  notice  before.  He  was  a 
little  chap  who  could  not  have  been  much  older  than  Ger- 
trude. He  had  a  fair,  soft  baby  face,  yet  there  was  some- 
thing about  him  that  made  him  appear  old  for  his  years. 
It  was  easy  to  tell  to  what  family  he  belonged. 

"I  think  Karin  has  brought  us  a  new  pupil,"  said  Storm. 

"This  is  my  brother,"  Karin  replied.  "He  is  the 
present  Ingmar  Ingmarsson." 

"He's  rather  little  for  that  name,"  Storm  remarked. 

"Yes,  father  died  too  soon!" 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          81 

"He  did  indeed,"  said  the  schoolmaster  and  his  wife, 
both  in  the  same  breath. 

"He  has  been  attending  the  school  in  Falun,"  Karin 
explained.  "That's  why  he  hasn't  been  here  before." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  let  him  go  back  this  year,  too?" 

Karin  dropped  her  eyes  and  a  sigh  escaped  her.  "He 
has  the  name  of  being  a  good  student,"  she  said,  evading 
his  question. 

"I'm  only  afraid  that  I  can't  teach  him  anything.  He 
must  know  as  much  as  I  do." 

"Well,  I  guess  the  schoolmaster  knows  a  good  deal  more 
than  a  little  chap  like  him."  Then  came  another  pause, 
after  which  Karin  continued:  "This  is  not  only  the 
question  of  his  attending  school,  but  I  would  also  like  to 
ask  whether  you  and  Mother  Stina  would  let  the  boy  come 
here  to  live." 

The  schoolmaster  and  his  wife  looked  at  each  other 
in  astonishment,  but  neither  of  them  was  prepared  to 
answer. 

"I  fear  our  quarters  are  rather  close,"  said  Storm,  pres- 
ently. 

"I  thought  that  perhaps  you  might  be  willing  to  accept 
milk  and  butter  and  eggs  as  part  payment." 

"As  to  that " 

"You  would  be  doing  me  a  great  service,"  said  the  rich 
peasant  woman. 

Mother  Stina  felt  that  Karin  would  never  have  made 
this  singular  request  had  there  not  been  some  good  reason 
for  it;  so  she  promptly  settled  the  matter. 


82  JERUSALEM 

"Karin  need  say  no  more.  We  will  do  all  that  we  can 
for  the  Ingmarssons." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Karin. 

The  two  women  talked  over  what  had  best  be  done  for 
Ingmar's  welfare.  Meantime,  Storm  took  the  boy  with 
him  to  the  classroom,  and  gave  him  a  seat  next  to  Ger- 
trude. During  the  whole  of  the  first  day  Ingmar  never 
said  a  word. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Tims  Halvor  did  not  go  near  the  schoolhouse  again  for 
a  week  or  more;  it  was  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  again  meet- 
ing Karin  there.  But  one  morning  when  it  rained  in  tor- 
rents, and  there  was  no  likelihood  of  any  customers  coming, 
he  decided  to  run  over  and  have  a  chat  with  Mother 
Stina.  He  was  hungry  for  a  heart-to-heart  talk  with 
some  kindly  and  sympathetic  person.  He  had  been 
seized  by  a  terrible  fit  of  the  blues.  "I'm  no  good,  and 
no  one  has  any  respect  for  me,"  he  murmured,  tormenting 
himself,  as  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  ever  since 
Karin  had  thrown  him  over. 

He  closed  his  shop,  buttoned  his  storm  coat,  and  went 
on  his  way  to  the  school,  through  wind  and  rain  and  slush. 
Halvor  was  happy  to  be  back  once  more  in  the  friendly 
atmosphere  of  the  schoolhouse,  and  was  still  there  when 
the  recess  bell  rang,  and  Storm  and  the  two  children  came 
in  for  their  coffee.  All  three  went  over  to  greet  him.  He 
arose  to  shake  hands  with  the  schoolmaster,  but  when 
little  Ingmar  put  out  his  hand,  Halvor  was  talking  so 
earnestly  to  Mother  Stina  that  he  seemed  not  to  have 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          83 

noticed  the  boy.  Ingmar  remained  standing  a  moment, 
then  he  went  up  to  the  table  and  sat  down.  He  sighed 
several  times,  just  as  Karin  had  done  the  day  she  was 
there. 

"Halvor  has  come  to  show  us  his  new  watch,"  said 
Mother  Stina. 

Whereupon  Halvor  took  from  his  pocket  a  new  silver 
watch,  which  he  showed  to  them.  It  was  a  pretty  little 
timepiece,  with  a  flower  design  engraved  on  the  case. 
The  schoolmaster  opened  it,  went  into  the  schoolroom 
for  a  magnifying  glass,  adjusted  it  to  his  eye,  and  began 
examining  the  works.  He  seemed  quite  carried  away 
as  he  studied  the  delicate  adjustment  of  the  tiny  wheels, 
and  said  he  had  never  seen  finer  workmanship.  Finally 
he  gave  the  watch  back  to  Halvor,  who  put  it  in  his 
pocket,  looking  neither  pleased  nor  proud,  as  folks  gener- 
ally do  when  you  praise  their  purchases. 

Ingmar  was  silent  during  the  meal,  but  when  he  had 
finished  his  coffee,  he  asked  Storm  whether  he  really  knew 
anything  about  watches. 

"Why,  of  course,"  returned  the  schoolmaster.  "Don't 
you  know  that  I  understand  a  little  of  everything  ?" 

Ingmar  then  brought  out  a  watch  which  he  carried  in 
his  vest  pocket.  It  was  a  big,  round,  silver  turnip  that 
looked  ugly  and  clumsy  as  compared  with  Halvor's 
watch.  The  chain  to  which  it  was  attached  was  also 
a  clumsy  contrivance.  The  case  was  quite  plain  and 
dented.  It  was  not  much  of  a  watch:  it  had  no  crystal, 
and  the  enamel  on  its  face  was  cracked. 


84  JERUSALEM 

"It  has  stopped,"  said  Storm,  putting  the  watch  to  his 
ear. 

"Yes,  I  kn-n-ow,"  stammered  the  boy.  "I  was  just 
wondering  if  you  didn't  think  it  could  be  mended." 

Storm  opened  it  and  found  that  all  the  wheels  were 
loose.  "You  must  have  been  hammering  nails  with  this 
watch,"  he  said.  "I  can't  do  anything  with  it." 

"Don't  you  think  that  Eric,  the  clockmaker,  could 
fix  it?" 

"No,  no  more  than  I.  You'd  better  send  it  to  Falun 
and  have  new  works  put  in." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Ingmar,  and  took  the  watch. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  what  have  you  been  doing  with 
it?"  the  schoolmaster  exclaimed. 

The  boy  swallowed  hard.  "It  was  father's  watch,"  he 
explained,  "and  it  got  damaged  like  that  when  father  was 
struck  by  the  whirling  log." 

Now  they  all  grew  interested. 

With  an  effort  to  control  his  feelings,  Ingmar  continued : 
"As  you  know,  it  happened  during  Holy  Week,  when  I 
was  at  home.  I  was  the  first  person  to  reach  father  when 
he  lay  on  the  bank.  I  found  him  with  the  watch  in  his 
hand.  'Now  it's  all  over  with  me,  Ingmar,*  he  said. 
'I'm  sorry  the  watch  is  broken,  for  I  want  you  to  give  it,  with 
my  greetings,  to  some  one  that  I  have  wronged.'  Then 
he  told  me  who  was  to  have  the  watch,  and  bade  me  take 
it  along  to  Falun  and  have  it  repaired  before  presenting 
it.  But  I  never  went  back  to  Falun,  and  now  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  about  it.' 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          85 

The  schoolmaster  was  wondering  whether  he  knew  of 
any  one  who  was  soon  going  to  the  city,  when  Mother 
Stina  turned  to  the  boy: 

"Who  was  to  have  the  watch,  Ingmar?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  tell,"  the  boy  demurred. 

"Wasn't  it  Tims  Halvor,  who  is  sitting  here?" 

"Yes,"  he  whispered. 

"Then  give  Halvor  the  watch  just  as  it  is,"  said  Mother 
Stina.  "That  will  please  him  best." 

Ingmar  obediently  rose,  took  out  the  watch  and  rubbed 
it  on  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  to  shine  it  up  a  bit.  Then  he 
went  over  to  Halvor. 

"Father  asked  me  to  give  you  this  with  his  compli- 
ments," he  said,  holding  out  the  watch. 

All  this  while  Halvor  had  sat  there,  silent  and  glum. 
And  when  the  boy  went  over  to  him,  he  put  his  hand  up  to 
his  eyes,  as  if  he  did  not  want  to  look  at  him.  Ingmar 
stood  a  long  time  holding  out  the  watch;  finally,  he  glanced 
appealingly  at  Mother  Stina. 

"Blessed  are  the  peacemakers,"  she  said. 

Then  Storm  put  in  a  word.  "I  don't  think  you  could 
ask  for  a  better  amend,  Halvor,"  he  said.  "I've  always 
maintained  that  if  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  had  lived  he  would 
have  given  you  full  justice  long  before  this." 

The  next  they  saw  was  Halvor  reaching  out  for  the 
watch,  almost  as  if  against  his  will.  But  the  moment  he 
had  got  it  into  his  hand,  he  put  it  in  the  inside  pocket  of 
his  vest. 

"There's  no  fear  of  any  one  taking  that  watch  from 


86  JERUSALEM 

him,"  said  the  schoolmaster  with  a  laugh,  as  he  saw  Halvor 
carefully  buttoning  his  coat. 

And  Halvor  laughed,  too.  Presently  he  got  up,  straight- 
ened himself,  and  drew  a  deep  breath.  The  colour  came 
into  his  cheeks,  and  his  eyes  shone  with  a  new-found  hap- 
piness. 

"Now  Halvor  must  feel  like  a  new  man,"  said  the 
schoolmaster's  wife. 

Then  Halvor  put  his  hand  inside  his  overcoat  and  drew 
out  his  brand-new  watch.  Crossing  over  to  Ingmar, 
who  was  again  seated  at  the  table,  he  said:  "Since  I 
have  taken  your  father's  watch  from  you,  you  must 
accept  this  one  from  me." 

He  laid  the  watch  on  the  table  and  went  out,  without 
even  saying  good-bye.  The  rest  of  the  day  he  tramped 
the  roads  and  bypaths.  A  couple  of  peasants  who  had 
come  from  a  distance  to  trade  with  him  hung  around 
outside  the  shop  from  noon  till  evening.  But  no  Tims 
Halvor  appeared. 


Elof  Ersson,  the  husband  of  Karin  Ingmarsson,  was 
the  son  of  a  cruel  and  avaricious  peasant,  who  had  always 
treated  him  harshly.  As  a  child  he  had  been  half  starved, 
and  even  after  he  was  grown  up  his  father  kept  him  under 
his  thumb.  He  had  to  toil  and  slave  from  morning  till 
night,  and  was  never  allowed  any  pleasures.  He  was  not 
even  allowed  to  attend  the  country  dances  like  other  young 
folk,  and  he  got  no  rest  from  his  work  even  on  Sundays. 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          87 

Nor  did  Elof  become  his  own  master  when  he  married. 
He  had  to  live  at  the  Ingmar  Farm  and  be  under  the 
domination  of  his  father-in-law;  and  also  at  the  Ingmar 
Farm  hard  work  and  frugality  were  the  rule  of  the  day. 
As  long  as  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  lived  Elof  seemed  quite 
content  with  his  lot,  toiling  and  slaving  with  never  so 
much  as  a  complaint.  Folks  used  to  say  that  now  the 
Ingmarssons  had  got  a  son-in-law  after  their  own  hearts, 
for  Elof  Ersson  did  not  know  that  there  was  anything  else 
in  life  than  just  toil  and  drudgery. 

But  as  soon  as  Big  Ingmar  was  dead  and  buried,  Elof 
began  to  drink  and  carouse.  He  made  the  acquaintance 
of  all  the  rounders  in  the  parish,  and  invited  them  down 
to  the  Farm,  and  went  with  them  to  dance  halls  and  tav- 
erns. He  quit  work  altogether,  and  drank  himself  full 
every  day.  In  the  space  of  two  short  months  he  became 
a  poor  drunken  wretch. 

The  first  time  Karin  saw  him  in  a  state  of  intoxication 
she  was  horrified.  "This  is  God's  judgment  upon  me  for 
my  treatment  of  Halvor,"  was  the  thought  that  came  to 
her.  To  *he  husband  she  said  very  little  in  the  way  of 
rebuke  or  warning.  She  soon  perceived  that  he  was 
like  a  blasted  tree,  doomed  to  wither  and  decay,  and 
that  she  could  not  hope  for  either  help  or  protection  from 
him. 

But  Karin's  sisters  were  not  so  wise  as  she  was.  They 
resented  his  escapades,  blushed  at  his  ribald  songs  and 
coarse  jokes,  by  turns  threatening  and  admonishing 
him.  And  although  their  brother-in-law  was  on  the 


88  JERUSALEM 

whole  rather  good-natured,  he  sometimes  got  into  a 
rage  and  had  words  with  them.  Then  Karin's  only 
thought  was  how  she  should  get  her  sisters  away  from  the 
house,  that  they  might  escape  the  misery  in  which  she 
herself  had  to  live.  In  the  course  of  the  summer  she 
managed  to  marry  off  the  two  older  girls,  and  the  two 
younger  ones  she  sent  to  America,  where  they  had  rela- 
tives who  were  well-to-do. 

All  the  sisters  received  their  proportion  of  the  inheri- 
tance, which  amounted  to  twenty  thousand  kroner  each. 
The  farm  had  been  left  to  Karin,  with  the  understanding 
that  young  Ingmar  was  to  take  it  over  when  he  became  of 
age. 

It  seemed  remarkable  that  Karin,  who  was  so  awkward 
and  diffident,  should  have  been  able  to  send  so  many  birds 
from  the  nest,  find  mates  for  them,  and  homes.  She 
arranged  it  all  herself,  for  she  could  get  no  help  whatever 
from  her  husband,  who  had  now  become  utterly  worthless. 

Her  greatest  concern,  however,  was  the  little  brother — 
he  who  was  now  Ingmar  Ingmarsson.  The  boy  exas- 
perated Karin's  husband  even  more  than  the  sisters  had 
done.  He  did  it  by  actions  rather  than  words.  One 
time  he  poured  out  all  the  corn  brandy  Elof  had  brought 
home;  another  time  the  brother-in-law  caught  him  in  the 
act  of  diluting  his  liquor  with  water. 

When  autumn  came  Karin  demanded  that  the  boy  be 
sent  back  to  high  school  that  year,  as  in  former  years, 
but  her  husband,  who  was  also  his  guardian,  would  not 
hear  of  it. 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          89 

"Ingmar  shall  be  a  farmer,  like  his  father  and  me  and 
my  father,"  said  Elof.  "What  business  has  he  at  high 
school?  When  the  winter  comes,  he  and  I  will  go  into 
the  forest  to  put  up  charcoal  kilns.  That  will  be  the  best 
kind  of  schooling  for  him.  When  I  was  his  age,  I  spent  a 
whole  winter  working  at  the  kiln." 

As  Karin  could  not  induce  him  to  alter  his  mind,  she 
had  to  make  the  best  of  it  and  keep  Ingmar  at  home  for 
the  time  being. 

Elof  then  tried  to  win  the  confidence  of  little  Ingmar. 
Whenever  he  went  anywhere  he  always  wanted  the  boy 
to  accompany  him.  The  lad  went,  of  course,  but  un- 
willingly. He  did  not  like  to  go  with  him  on  his  sprees. 
Then  Elof  would  coax  the  boy,  and  vow  that  he  was  not 
going  any  farther  than  the  church  or  the  shop.  But 
when  once  he  got  Ingmar  in  the  cart,  he  would  drive  off 
with  him,  down  to  the  smithies  at  Bergsana,  or  the  tavern 
in  Karmsund. 

Karin  was  glad  that  her  husband  took  the  boy 
along;  it  was  at  least  a  safeguard  against  Elof  being 
left  in  a  ditch  by  the  roadside,  or  driving  the  horse  to 
death. 

Once,  when  Elof  came  home  at  eight  in  the  morning, 
Ingmar  was  sitting  beside  him  in  the  cart,  fast  asleep. 

"Come  out  here  and  look  after  the  boy!"  Elof  shouted 
to  Karin,  "and  carry  him  in.  The  poor  brat's  as  full  as 
a  tick,  and  can't  walk  a  step." 

Karin  was  so  shocked  that  she  almost  collapsed.  She 
was  obliged  to  sit  down  on  the  steps  for  a  moment,  to 


90  JERUSALEM 

recover  herself,  before  she  could  lift  the  boy.  The  minute 
she  took  hold  of  him  she  discovered  that  he  was  not  really 
asleep,  but  stiff  from  the  cold,  and  unconscious.  Taking 
the  boy  in  her  arms,  she  carried  him  into  the  bedroom, 
locked  the  door  after  her,  and  tried  to  bring  him  to.  After 
a  while  she  stepped  into  the  living-room,  where  Elof  sat 
eating  his  breakfast.  She  walked  straight  up  to  him  and 
put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You'd  better  lay  in  a  good  meal  while  you're  about 
it,"  she  said,  "for  if  you  have  made  my  brother  drink 
himself  to  death,  you'll  soon  have  to  put  up  with  poorer 
fare  than  you're  getting  on  the  Ingmar  Farm." 

"  How  you  talk !     As  if  a  little  brandy  could  hurt  him ! " 

"Mark  what  I  say!  If  the  boy  dies,  you'll  get  twenty 
years  in  prison,  Elof." 

When  Karin  returned  to  the  bedroom,  the  boy  had  come 
out  of  his  stupor,  but  was  delirious  and  unable  to  move 
hand  or  foot.  He  suffered  agonies. 

"Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  die,  Karin?"  he  moaned. 

"No,  dear,  of  course  not,"  Karin  assured  him. 

"I  didn't  know  what  they  were  giving  me." 

"Thank  God  for  that!"  said  Karin  fervently. 

"If  I  die,  write  to  my  sisters  and  tell  them  I  didn't 
know  it  was  liquor,"  wailed  the  boy. 

"Yes,  dear,"  soothed  Karin. 

"Really  and  truly  I  didn't  know — I  swear  it!" 

All  day  Ingmar  lay  in  a  raging  fever.  "Please  don't 
tell  father  about  it!"  he  raved. 

"Father  will  never  know  of  it,"  she  said. 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          91 

"But  suppose  I  die,  then  father  would  surely  find  it  out, 
and  I  would  be  shamed  before  him." 

"But  it  wasn't  your  fault,  child." 

"Maybe  father  will  think  that  I  shouldn't  have  taken 
what  Elof  offered  me?  Don't  you  suppose  the  whole 
parish  must  know  that  I  have  been  full?"  he  asked. 
"What  do  the  hired  men  say,  and  what  does  old  Lisa 
say,  and  Strong  Ingmar?" 

"They're  not  saying  anything,"  Karin  replied. 

"You  will  have  to  tell  them  how  it  happened.  We 
were  at  the  tavern  in  Karmsund,  where  Elof  and  some  of 
his  pals  had  been  drinking  the  whole  night.  I  was  sitting 
in  a  corner  on  a  bench,  half  asleep,  when  Elof  came  over 
and  roused  me.  'Wake  up,  Ingmar,'  he  said  very  pleas- 
antly, 'and  I'll  give  you  something  that  will  make  you 
warm.  Drink  this,'  he  urged,  holding  a  glass  to  my  lips. 
'  It's  only  hot  water  with  a  little  sugar  in  it.'  I  was  shiver- 
ing with  the  cold  when  I  awoke  and,  as  I  drank  the  stuff, 
I  only  noticed  that  it  was  hot  and  sweet.  But  he  had  gone 
and  mixed  something  strong  with  it!  Oh,  what  will 
father  say?" 

Then  Karin  opened  the  door  leading  to  the  living-room, 
where  Elof  still  lingered  over  his  meal.  She  felt  that  it 
would  be  well  for  him  to  hear  this. 

"If  only  father  were  living,  Karin,  if  only  father  were 
living!" 

"What  then,  Ingmar?" 

"Don't  you  think  he'd  kill  him?" 

Elof  broke  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  when  the  boy  heard 


92  JERUSALEM 

him,  he  turned  so  pale  with  fright  that  Karin  promptly 
closed  the  door  again. 

It  had  this  good  effect  upon  Elof,  at  all  events:  he  put 
up  no  objection  when  Karin  decided  to  take  the  boy  to 
Storm's  school. 

Soon  after  Halvor  had  received  the  watch,  his  shop  was 
always  full  of  people.  Every  farmer  in  the  parish,  when 
in  town,  would  stop  at  Halvor's  shop  in  order  to  hear  the 
story  of  Big  Ingmar's  watch.  The  peasants  in  their 
long  white  fur  coats  stood  hanging  over  the  counter  by 
the  hour,  their  solemn,  furrowed  faces  turned  toward 
Halvor  as  he  talked  to  them.  Sometimes  he  would  take 
out  the  watch,  and  show  them  the  dented  case  and  the 
cracked  face. 

"So  it  was  there  the  blow  caught  him,"  the  peasants 
would  say.  And  they  seemed  to  see  before  them  what 
had  happened  when  Big  Ingmar  was  hurt.  "It  is  a  great 
thing  for  you,  Halvor,  to  have  that  watch!" 

When  Halvor  was  showing  the  watch  he  would  never 
let  it  out  of  his  hands,  but  would  always  keep  a  tight  grip 
on  the  chain. 

One  day  Halvor  stood  talking  to  a  group  of  peasants, 
telling  them  the  usual  story,  and  at  the  climax  the  watch 
was  of  course  brought  out.  As  it  was  being  passed  from 
one  to  the  other  (he  holding  the  chain)  there  fell  upon  all 
a  solemn  hush.  In  the  meantime  Elof  had  come  into  the 
shop,  but  as  every  one's  attention  was  riveted  upon  the 
watch,  no  one  had  remarked  his  presence.  Elof  had  also 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          93 

heard  the  story  of  his  father-in-law's  watch,  and  knew  at 
once  what  was  going  on.  He  did  not  begrudge  Halvor 
his  souvenir;  he  was  simply  amused  at  the  sight  of  him 
and  the  others  standing  there  looking  so  solemn  over 
nothing  but  an  old  and  battered  silver  watch. 

Elof  stole  quietly  up  behind  the  men,  reached  over,  and 
snatched  the  watch  from  Halvor.  It  was  only  meant  in 
fun.  He  had  no  thought  of  taking  the  watch  away  from 
Halvor;  he  just  wanted  to  tease  him  a  bit. 

When  Halvor  tried  to  snatch  it  again,  Elof  stepped  back 
and  held  it  up,  as  if  he  were  holding  out  a  lump  of  sugar 
to  a  dog.  Then  Halvor  vaulted  the  counter;  and  he  looked 
so  angry  that  Elof  got  frightened  and,  instead  of  standing 
still  and  handing  him  back  the  watch,  he  ran  for  the  door. 

Outside  were  some  badly  worn  wooden  steps;  EloPs 
foot  caught  in  a  hole,  and  down  he  went.  Halvor  fell 
upon  him,  seized  the  watch,  then  gave  him  several  hard 
kicks. 

"You'd  better  quit  kicking  me,  and  find  out  what's 
wrong  with  my  back,"  said  Elof. 

Halvor  stopped  at  once,  but  Elof  made  no  move  to 
raise  himself. 

"Help  me  up,"  he  said. 

"You  can  help  yourself  when  you've  slept  off  your  jag/' 

"I'm  not  full,"  Elof  protested.  "The  fact  is,  as  I 
started  to  run  down  the  stairs  I  thought  I  saw  Big  Ingmar 
coming  toward  me,  to  take  the  watch.  That's  how  I  got 
such  an  ugly  fall." 

Then  Halvor  bent  down  and  gave  the  poor  wretch  a 


94  JERUSALEM 

lift,  for  his  back  was  broken.  He  had  to  be  put  into  a 
wagon  and  driven  home.  He  would  never  again  have  the 
use  of  his  legs.  From  that  time  forth  Elof  was  confined 
to  his  bed,  a  helpless  cripple.  But  he  could  talk,  and  all 
day  long  he  kept  begging  for  brandy.  The  doctor  had 
left  strict  orders  with  Karin  not  to  give  him  any  spirits, 
lest  he  drink  himself  to  death.  Then  Elof  tried  to  get 
what  he  wanted  by  shrieking  and  making  the  most  hide- 
ous noises,  especially  at  night.  He  behaved  like  a  mad- 
man, and  disturbed  every  one's  rest. 

That  was  Karin's  most  trying  year.  Her  husband 
sometimes  tormented  her  until  it  seemed  as  though  she 
could  not  stand  it  any  longer.  The  very  air  became 
polluted  by  his  vile  talk  and  profanity,  so  that  the  home 
was  like  a  hell.  Karin  begged  the  Storms  to  keep  little 
Ingmar  with  them  also  during  the  holidays;  she  did  not 
want  her  brother  to  be  at  home  with  her  for  a  day,  not 
even  at  Christmas. 

All  the  servants  at  the  Ingmar  Farm  were  distantly 
related  to  the  family,  and  had  always  lived  on  the  place. 
But  for  the  feeling  that  they  belonged  to  the  Ingmarssons, 
they  could  not  have  gone  on  serving  under  such  condi- 
tions. There  were  precious  few  nights  that  they  were 
allowed  to  sleep  in  peace.  Elof  was  constantly  hitting 
upon  new  ways  of  tormenting  both  the  servants  and 
Karin,  to  make  them  give  in  to  his  demands. 

In  this  misery  Karin  passed  a  winter  and  a  summer 
and  another  winter. 

But  Karin  had  a  retreat  to  which  she  would  flee  at 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          95 

times  in  order  to  be  alone  with  her  thoughts.  Behind  the 
hop  garden  there  was  a  narrow  seat  upon  which  she  often 
sat,  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  chin  resting  in 
her  hands,  staring  straight  ahead,  yet  seeing  nothing. 
Fronting  her  were  great  stretches  of  cornfields,  beyond 
which  was  the  forest,  and  in  the  distance  the  range  of  hills 
and  Mount  Klack. 

One  evening  in  April  she  sat  on  her  bench,  feeling  tired 
and  listless,  as  one  often  does  in  the  springtime  when  the 
snow  turns  to  slush  and  the  ground  is  still  unwashed  by 
spring  rains.  The  hops  lay  sleeping  under  a  cover  of  fir 
brush.  Over  against  the  hills  hung  a  thick  mist,  such  as 
always  accompanies  a  thaw.  The  birch  tops  were  begin- 
ning to  turn  brown,  but  all  along  the  skirt  of  the  forest 
there  was  still  a  deep  border  of  snow.  Spring  would  soon 
be  there  in  earnest,  and  the  thought  of  it  made  her  feel 
even  more  tired.  She  felt  that  she  could  never  live 
through  another  summer  like  the  last  one.  She  thought 
of  all  the  work  ahead  of  her — sowing  and  haymaking; 
spring  baking  and  spring  cleaning;  weaving  and  sewing — 
and  wondered  how  she  would  ever  get  through  with  it  all. 

"I  might  better  be  dead,"  she  sighed.  "I  seem  to  be 
here  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  prevent  Elof  killing 
himself  with  drink." 

Suddenly  she  looked  up,  as  if  she  had  heard  some  one 
calling  her.  Leaning  against  the  hedge,  looking  straight 
at  her,  stood  Halvor  Halvorsson.  She  did  not  know  just 
when  he  had  come,  but  apparently  he  had  been  standing 
there  a  good  while. 


96  JERUSALEM 

"I  thought  I  should  find  you  over  here,"  Halvor  said. 

"Oh,  did  you?" 

"I  remembered  how  in  days  gone  by  you  used  to  steal 
away,  and  come  here  to  sit  and  brood." 

"I  didn't  have  much  to  brood  over  at  that  time." 

"Then  your  troubles  were  mostly  imaginary." 

Karin  mused  as  she  looked  at  Halvor:  "He  must  be 
thinking  what  a  fool  I  was  not  to  have  married  him,  who 
is  such  a  handsome  and  dignified  man.  Now  he's  got 
me  where  he  can  crow  over  me,  and  he  has  come  only  to 
laugh  at  me." 

"I've  been  inside  talking  with  Elof,"  Halvor  enlight- 
ened. "It  was  really  him  I  wanted  to  see." 

Karin  made  no  reply,  but  sat  there,  frigid  and  unre- 
sponsive, her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  and  her  hands 
crossed,  prepared  to  meet  all  the  scorn  she  fancied  Halvor 
would  now  heap  upon  her. 

"I  said  to  him,"  Halvor  continued,  "that  I  considered 
myself  largely  to  blame  for  his  misfortune,  since  it  was 
at  my  place  that  he  got  hurt."  He  paused  a  moment, 
as  if  waiting  for  some  expression  from  her,  either  of  ap- 
proval or  disapproval.  But  Karin  was  silent.  "So  I 
have  asked  him  to  come  and  live  with  me  for  a  while.  It 
would  at  least  be  a  change,  and  he  could  see  more  people 
than  he  meets  here." 

Then  Karin  raised  her  eyes,  but  otherwise  remained  as 
motionless  as  before. 

"We  have  arranged  to  have  him  sent  to  my  place  to- 
morrow morning.  I  know  he'll  come,  because  he  thinks 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          97 

he  can  get  his  liquor.  But,  of  course,  you  must  know, 
Karin,  that  that's  out  of  the  question.  No,  indeed!  It's 
no  more  to  be  had  with  me  than  with  you.  I  shall  expect 
him  to-morrow.  He  is  to  occupy  the  little  room  off  the 
shop,  and  I've  promised  him  that  I'll  let  his  door  stand 
open,  so  that  he  may  see  all  persons  who  come  and 

go." 

At  Halvor's  first  words  Karin  wondered  whether  this 
was  not  something  he  had  made  up,  but  gradually  it 
dawned  on  her  that  he  was  in  earnest. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Karin  had  always  imagined  that 
Halvor  had  courted  her  only  because  of  her  money  and 
good  connections.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  he 
might  have  loved  her  for  herself  alone.  She  probably 
knew  she  was  not  the  kind  of  girl  that  men  care  for.  Nor 
had  she  herself  been  in  love,  either  with  Halvor  or  Elof. 
But  now  that  Halvor  had  come  to  her  in  her  trouble, 
and  wanted  to  help  her,  she  was  completely  overwhelmed 
by  the  bigness  of  the  man.  She  marvelled  that  he  could 
be  so  kind.  She  felt  that  surely  he  must  like  her  a  little, 
since  he  had  come  like  that,  to  help  her. 

Karin's  heart  began  to  beat  violently  and  anxiously. 
She  awoke  to  something  she  had  never  before  experienced, 
and  wondered  what  it  meant.  Then  all  at  once  she  real- 
ized that  Halvor's  kindness  had  thawed  her  frozen  heart, 
and  that  love  was  beginning  to  flame  up  in  her.  Halvor 
went  on  unfolding  his  plan,  fearing  all  the  while  that  she 
might  oppose  him.  "It's  hard  for  Elof,  too,"  he  pleaded. 
"He  needs  a  change  of  scene,  and  he  won't  make  as  much 


98  JERUSALEM 

trouble  for  me  as  he  has  made  for  you.  It  will  be  quite 
different  when  he's  got  a  man  to  reckon  with." 

Karin  hardly  knew  what  she  should  do.  She  felt  that 
she  could  not  make  a  movement  or  say  a  word  without 
letting  Halvor  see  that  she  was  in  love  with  him;  yet  she 
knew  she  would  have  to  give  him  some  kind  of  an  answer. 

Presently  Halvor  stopped  talking  and  simply  looked  at 
her. 

Then  Karin  rose,  involuntarily  went  up  to  him,  and 
patted  him  on  the  hand.  "God  bless  you,  Halvor!"  she 
said  in  broken  tones.  "  God  bless  you ! " 

Despite  all  her  precautions,  Halvor  must  have  divined 
something,  for  he  quickly  grasped  her  hands  and  drew  her 
to  him. 

"No!  No!"  she  cried  in  alarm,  freeing  herself;  then 
she  hurried  away. 

Elof  had  gone  to  live  with  Halvor.  All  summer  he 
lay  in  the  little  bedroom  off  the  shop.  Halvor  was  not 
troubled  with  the  care  of  him  for  a  great  while,  for  in  the 
autumn  he  died. 

Shortly  after  his  death  Mother  Stina  said  to  Halvor: 
"Now  you  must  promise  me  one  thing:  promise  me  that 
you  will  exercise  patience  as  regards  Karin." 

"Of  course  I'll  have  patience,"  Halvor  returned,  won- 
deringly. 

"She's  somebody  worth  winning,  even  if  one  has  to 
wait  seven  long  years." 

But  it  was  not  so  easy  for  Halvor  to  have  patience,  for 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR          99 

he  soon  learned  that  this  one  and  that  one  was  paying 
court  to  Karin.  This  began  within  a  fortnight  of  Elof's 
funeral. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  Halvor  sat  on  the  steps  in  front 
of  his  shop,  watching  the  people  coming  and  going.  Pres- 
ently it  occurred  to  him  that  an  unusual  number  of  fine 
rigs  were  moving  in  the  direction  of  the  Ingmar  Farm. 
In  the  first  carriage  sat  an  inspector  from  Bergsana 
Foundry,  in  the  second  was  the  son  of  the  proprietor  of 
the  Karmsund  Inn,  and  last  came  the  Magistrate  Berger 
Sven  Persson,  who  was  the  richest  man  in  western  Dale- 
carlia,  and  a  sensible  and  highly  esteemed  man,  too.  He 
was  not  young,  to  be  sure;  he  had  been  twice  married,  and 
was  now  a  widower  for  the  second  time. 

When  Halvor  saw  Berger  Sven  Persson  driving  by,  he 
could  not  contain  himself  any  longer.  He  jumped  to  his 
feet  and  started  down  the  road;  in  almost  no  time  he  was 
over  the  bridge  and  on  the  side  of  the  river  where  the 
Ingmar  Farm  lay. 

"I'd  like  to  know  where  all  those  carriages  have  gone 
to,"  he  said  to  himself.  He  followed  the  wheel  ruts, 
half  running,  but  all  the  while  becoming  more  and  more 
determined.  "I  know  this  is  stupid  of  me,"  he  thought, 
remembering  Mother  Stina's  warning.  "But  I'm  only 
going  as  far  as  the  gate,  to  see  what  they're  up  to  down 
there." 

In  the  best  room  at  the  Ingmars  sat  Berger  Sven  Pers- 
son and  two  other  men,  drinking  coffee.  Ingmar  Ingmars- 
son,  who  still  lived  at  the  schoolhouse,  was  at  home  over 


ioo  JERUSALEM 

Sunday.  He  sat  at  table  with  them  and  acted  as  host, 
for  Karin  had  excused  herself,  saying  she  had  some  work 
to  do  in  the  kitchen,  as  the  maids  had  gone  down  to  the 
mission  house  to  hear  the  schoolmaster  preach. 

It  was  deadly  dull  in  the  parlour.  All  the  men  sat 
drinking  their  coffee  without  exchanging  a  word.  The 
suitors  were  practically  strangers  to  one  another,  and  all 
three  of  them  were  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  slip 
into  the  kitchen  for  a  private  word  with  Karin. 

Presently  the  door  opened  and  in  stepped  another  caller, 
who  was  received  by  Ingmar,  and  conducted  to  the  table. 

"This  is  Tims  Halvor  Halvorsson,"  said  Ingmar,  intro- 
ducing the  newcomer  to  Berger  Sven  Persson. 

Sven  Persson  did  not  rise,  but  greeted  Halvor  with  a 
sweep  of  the  hand,  saying,  somewhat  facetiously: 

"It  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  so  distinguished  a  personage." 

Ingmar  noisily  drew  up  a  chair  for  Halvor,  so  that  he 
was  spared  the  embarrassment  of  replying. 

From  the  moment  Halvor  entered  the  room,  all  the 
suitors  became  chatty  and  began  to  talk  big.  Each  in 
turn  praised  and  championed  the  others.  It  was  as  if 
they  had  all  agreed  among  themselves  to  stand  together 
until  Halvor  was  well  out  of  the  game. 

"The  magistrate  is  driving  a  fine  horse  to-day,"  the 
inspector  began. 

Berger  Sven  Persson  took  up  the  fun  by  complimenting 
the  inspector  on  having  shot  a  bear  the  winter  before. 
Then  the  two  turned  to  the  innkeeper's  son,  and  said 
something  in  praise  of  a  house  his  father  was  building. 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR         101 

Finally  all  three  of  them  bragged  about  the  wealth  of 
Berger  Sven  Persson.  They  waxed  eloquent,  and  with 
every  word  they  gave  Halvor  to  understand  that  he  was 
too  lowly  a  man  to  think  of  pitting  himself  against  them. 
And  Halvor  certainly  did  feel  very  insignificant,  and  bit- 
terly regretted  having  come. 

Just  then  Karin  came  along  with  fresh  coffee.  At 
sight  of  Halvor  she  brightened  for  an  instant;  then  it 
occurred  to  her  that  his  calling  on  her  so  soon  after  her 
husband's  death  looked  rather  bad.  "If  he  is  in  such  a 
hurry,  people  will  surely  say  that  he  hadn't  given  Elof 
proper  care,  and  that  he  wanted  him  out  of  the  way  so  he 
could  marry  me."  She  would  rather  he  had  waited  two 
or  three  years  before  coming;  that  would  have  been  long 
enough  to  make  folks  see  that  he  had  not  been  impatient 
for  Elof's  departure.  "Why  need  he  be  in  such  haste?" 
she  wondered.  "Surely  he  must  know  that  I  don't  want 
any  one  but  him." 

Every  one  had  stopped  talking  the  moment  Karin 
appeared,  wondering  how  she  and  Halvor  would  greet 
each  other.  They  barely  touched  hands.  At  which  the 
magistrate  expressed  his  delight  by  a  short  whistle,  while 
the  inspector  broke  into  a  loud  guffaw.  Halvor  quietly 
turned  to  him.  "What  are  you  laughing  at?"  he 
said. 

The  inspector  was  at  a  loss  for  an  answer.  With  Karin 
there  he  did  not  wish  to  say  anything  that  might  give 
offence. 

"He  is  thinking  of  a  hound  that  raises  a  hare  and 


102  JERUSALEM 

allows  some  one  else  to  catch  it,"  remarked  the  innkeeper's 
son,  insinuatingly. 

Karin  turned  blood  red,  but  refilled  the  coffee  cups. 
"Berger  Sven  Persson  and  the  rest  of  you  will  have  to  be 
satisfied  with  plain  coffee,"  she  said.  "We  no  longer 
serve  spirits  to  any  one  on  this  farm." 

"Nor  do  I  at  my  home,"  said  the  magistrate  approv- 
ingly. 

The  inspector  and  the  innkeeper's  son  kept  quiet;  they 
understood  that  Sven  Persson  had  scored  heavily. 

The  magistrate  straightway  began  to  discourse  on  tem- 
perance and  its  salutary  effects.  Karin  listened  to  him 
with  interest,  and  agreed  with  all  that  he  said.  Seeing 
that  this  was  the  kind  of  talk  that  would  appeal  to  her, 
the  magistrate  began  to  spread  himself,  and  delivered  a 
long-winded  harangue  on  the  curse  of  liquor  and  drunken- 
ness. Karin  recognized  all  her  own  thoughts  on  this 
subject,  and  was  glad  to  find  that  they  were  shared  by  so 
intelligent  a  man  as  the  magistrate. 

In  the  middle  of  his  monologue  Berger  Sven  Persson 
glanced  over  at  Halvor,  who  sat  at  the  table,  looking  glum 
and  sulky,  his  coffee  cup  untouched. 

"It's  pretty  rough  on  him,"  thought  Berger  Sven  Pers- 
son, "particularly  if  there's  any  truth  in  what  people  say 
about  his  having  given  Elof  a  little  lift  on  his  way  into 
the  next  world.  Anyway,  he  did  Karin  a  good  service 
by  relieving  her  of  that  dreadful  sot."  And  since  the 
magistrate  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  as  good  as  won 
the  game,  he  felt  rather  friendly  toward  Halvor.  Raising 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR         103 

his  cup,  he  said:  "Here's  to  you,  Halvor!  You  certainly 
did  Karin  a  good  turn  when  you  took  her  drunken  sot  of 
a  husband  off  her  hands." 

Halvor  did  not  respond  to  the  toast.  He  sat  looking 
the  man  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  wondered  how  he  should 
take  this. 

The  inspector  again  burst  out  laughing.  "Yes,  yes, 
a  good  turn,"  he  haw-hawed,  "a  real  good  turn." 

"Yes,  yes,  a  real  good  turn,"  echoed  the  innkeeper's 
son,  with  a  chuckle. 

Before  they  were  done  laughing,  Karin  had  vanished 
like  a  shadow  through  the  kitchen  door;  but  she  could 
hear  from  the  kitchen  all  that  was  said  inside.  She  was 
both  sorry  and  distressed  over  Halvor's  untimely  visit. 
It  would  probably  result  in  her  never  being  able  to  marry 
Halvor.  It  was  plain  that  the  gossips  were  already  spread- 
ing evil  reports.  "  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  losing  him," 
she  sighed. 

For  a  time  no  sound  came  from  the  sitting-room,  but 
presently  she  heard  a  noise  as  if  a  chair  were  being  pushed 
back.  Some  one  had  evidently  risen. 

"Are  you  going  already,  Halvor?"  young  Ingmar  was 
heard  to  say. 

"Yes,"  Halvor  replied.  "I  can't  stop  any  longer. 
Please  say  good-bye  to  Karin  for  me." 

"Why  don't  you  go  into  the  kitchen  and  say  it  for 
yourself? " 

"No,"  Halvor  was  heard  to  answer,  "we  two  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  each  other." 


io4  JERUSALEM 

Karin's  heart  began  to  pump  hard,  and  thoughts  came 
rushing  into  her  head,  as  if  on  wings.  Now  Halvor  was 
angry  at  her — and  no  wonder!  She  had  hardly  dared  even 
to  shake  hands  with  him,  and  when  the  others  had  scoffed 
at  him,  she  never  opened  her  mouth  in  his  defence,  but 
quietly  sneaked  away.  Now  he  must  think  she  did  not 
care  for  him,  and  was  therefore  going,  never  to  return. 
She  could  not  understand  why  she  should  have  treated 
him  so  shabbily — she  who  was  so  fond  of  him.  Then,  all 
at  once  her  father's  old  saying  came  to  her:  "The 
Ingmarssons  need  have  no  fear  of  men;  they  have  only 
to  walk  in  the  ways  of  God." 

Karin  hastily  opened  the  door,  and  stood  facing  Halvor 
before  he  could  manage  to  leave  the  room. 

"Are  you  leaving  so  soon,  Halvor?"  she  asked.  "I 
thought  you  were  going  to  stay  to  supper." 

Halvor  stood  staring  at  Karin.  She  seemed  to  be  com- 
pletely changed;  her  cheeks  were  aglow,  and  there  was 
something  tender  and  appealing  about  her  which  he  had 
never  seen  before. 

"I'm  going,  and  I'm  not  coming  back,"  said  Halvor. 
He  had  not  caught  her  meaning,  apparently. 

"Do  stay  and  finish  your  coffee,"  she  urged.  Then 
she  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  back  to  the  table. 
She  turned  both  white  and  red,  and  several  times  she  all 
but  lost  her  courage.  Just  the  same  she  braved  it  out, 
although  there  was  nothing  she  feared  so  much  as  scorn 
and  contempt.  "Now  he  will  at  least  see  that  I'm  willing 
to  stand  by  him,"  she  thought.  Turning  toward  her 


KARIN,  DAUGHTER  OF  INGMAR         105 

guests,  she  said:  "Berger  Sven  Persson  and  all  of  you! 
Halvor  and  I  have  not  spoken  of  this  matter — as  I  have 
so  recently  become  a  widow — but  now  it  seems  best  that 
you  should  all  know  that  I  would  rather  marry  Halvor 
than  any  one  else  in  the  world."  She  paused  to  get  con- 
trol of  her  voice,  then  concluded:  "Folks  may  say  what 
they  like  about  this,  but  Halvor  and  I  have  done  nothing 
wrong." 

When  Karin  had  finished  speaking,  she  drew  nearer  to 
Halvor,  as  if  seeking  protection  against  all  the  cruel 
slander  that  would  come  now. 

The  men  were  speechless,  mostly  from  astonishment 
at  Karin  Ingmarsson,  who  looked  younger  and  more 
girlish  than  ever  before  in  her  life. 

Then  Halvor  said  in  a  voice  vibrant  with  feeling: 
"Karin,  when  I  received  your  father's  watch,  I  felt  that 
nothing  greater  could  have  happened  to  me;  but  this 
thing  which  you  have  just  done  transcends  everything." 

Whereupon  Berger  Sven  Persson,  who  was  in  many 
ways  an  excellent  man,  arose. 

"Let  us  all  congratulate  Karin  and  Halvor,"  he  said, 
graciously,  "for  every  one  must  know  that  he  whom 
Karin,  daughter  of  Ingmar,  has  chosen  is  a  man  of  sterling 
worth." 


IN  ZION 


IN  ZION 

THAT  an  old  country  schoolmaster  should  some- 
times be  a  little  too  self-confident  is  not 
surprising:  for  well  nigh  a  lifetime  he  has  im- 
parted knowledge  and  given  advice  to  his  fellowmen. 
He  sees  that  all  the  peasants  are  living  by  what  he  has 
taught,  and  that  not  one  among  them  knows  more  than 
what  he,  their  schoolmaster,  has  told  them.  How  can  he 
help  but  regard  all  the  people  in  the  parish  as  mere  school 
children,  however  old  they  may  have  grown?  It  is  only 
natural  that  he  should  consider  himself  wiser  than  every 
one  else.  It  seems  almost  an  impossibility  for  one  of  these 
regular  old  school  persons  to  treat  any  one  as  a  grown-up, 
for  he  looks  upon  each  and  every  one  as  a  child  with 
dimpled  cheeks  and  wide  innocent  baby  eyes. 

One  Sunday,  in  the  winter,  just  after  service,  the  pastor 
and  the  schoolmaster  stood  talking  together  in  the  vestry; 
the  conversation  had  turned  upon  the  Salvation  Army. 

"It's  a  singular  idea  to  have  hit  upon,"  the  pastor  re- 
marked. "I  never  imagined  that  I  should  live  to  see 
anything  of  that  sort!" 

The  schoolmaster  glanced  sharply  at  the  pastor;  he 
thought  his  remark  entirely  irrelevant.  Surely  the  pas* 
tor  could  never  think  that  such  an  absurd  innovation 
would  find  its  way  into  their  parish. 

109 


i  io  JERUSALEM 

"I  don't  believe  you  are  likely  to  see  it,  either,"  he  said 
emphatically. 

The  pastor,  knowing  that  he  himself  was  a  weak  and 
broken-down  man,  let  the  schoolmaster  have  things  pretty 
much  his  own  way,  but  all  the  same,  he  could  not  refrain 
from  chaffing  him  a  little,  occasionally. 

"How  can  you  feel  so  cocksure  that  we  shall  escape  the 
Salvation  Army,  Storm?"  he  said.  "You  see,  when 
pastor  and  schoolmaster  stand  together,  there's  no  fear 
of  any  nuisance  of  that  sort  crowding  in.  Yet  I'm  not 
altogether  certain,  Storm,  that  you  do  stand  by  me.  You 
preach  to  suit  yourself  in  your  Zion." 

To  this  the  schoolmaster  did  not  reply  at  once.  Pres- 
ently he  said,  quite  meekly:  "The  pastor  has  never  heard 
me  preach." 

The  mission  house  was  a  veritable  rock  of  offence. 
The  clergyman  had  never  set  foot  in  the  place.  And  now 
that  this  mooted  question  had  come  up,  both  men  were 
sorry  they  had  said  anything  to  hurt  each  other's  feelings. 
"Perhaps  I'm  unjust  to  Storm,"  thought  the  pastor. 
"During  the  four  years  that  he  has  been  holding  his 
afternoon  Bible  Talks,  on  Sundays,  there  has  been  a 
larger  attendance  at  the  morning  church  services  than 
ever  before,  and  I  haven't  seen  the  least  sign  of  division 
in  the  church.  Storm  has  not  destroyed  the  parish, 
as  I  feared  he  would.  He  is  a  faithful  friend  and 
servant,  and  I  mean  to  show  him  how  much  I  appreciate 
him." 

The  little  misunderstanding  of  the  forenoon  resulted  in 


IN  ZION  in 

the  pastor's  attending  the  schoolmaster's  meeting  in  the 
afternoon. 

"I'll  give  Storm  a  pleasant  surprise,"  he  thought.  "I 
will  go  to  hear  him  preach  in  his  Zion." 

On  the  way  to  the  mission  house  the  pastor's  thoughts 
went  back  to  the  time  it  was  built.  How  full  the  air  had 
been  of  prophecies,  and  how  firmly  he  had  believed  that 
God  had  intended  it  to  be  something  great!  But  nothing 
much  had  happened.  "Our  Lord  must  have  changed  His 
mind,"  he  thought,  amused  at  his  entertaining  such  queer 
ideas  regarding  our  Lord. 

The  schoolmaster's  Zion  was  a  large  hall  with  light- 
coloured  walls.  On  either  side  hung  wood  engravings  of 
Luther  and  Melanchton,  in  fur-trimmed  cloaks;  along  the 
borders,  close  to  the  ceiling,  ran  highly  illuminated  Bible 
texts,  embellished  with  flowers  and  heavenly  trumpets 
and  bassoons.  At  the  front  of  the  room,  above  the 
speaker's  platform,  hung  an  oleograph  representing  the 
Good  Shepherd. 

The  large  bare  room  was  full  of  people,  which  was  all 
that  seemed  necessary  to  create  an  atmosphere  of  im- 
pressive solemnity.  Most  of  the  people  were  dressed  in 
the  picturesque  peasant  costume  of  the  parish,  and  the 
starched  and  flaring  white  headgear  of  the  women  made 
the  room  look  as  if  it  were  filled  with  large  white-winged 
birds. 

Storm  had  already  commenced  his  address,  when  he 
saw  the  pastor  come  down  the  aisle  and  take  a  seat  in  the 
front  row. 


ii2  JERUSALEM 

"You're  a  wonderful  man,  Storm!"  thought  the  school- 
master. "  Everything  comes  your  way.  Here's  the  pastor 
himself  to  do  you  honour." 

During  the  time  that  the  schoolmaster  had  been  hold- 
ing meetings,  he  had  explained  the  Bible  from  cover  to 
cover.  That  afternoon  he  spoke  of  the  Heavenly  Jeru- 
salem and  everlasting  bliss,  as  given  in  the  Book  of  the 
Revelation.  He  was  so  pleased  at  the  parson  having 
come,  that  he  kept  thinking  to  himself:  "For  my  part  I 
shouldn't  ask  for  anything  better  than  to  stand  on  a  plat- 
form through  all  eternity,  teaching  good  and  obedient 
children;  and  if,  on  occasion,  our  Lord  Himself  should 
drop  in  to  hear  me,  as  the  pastor  has  done  to-day,  no  one 
in  heaven  would  be  more  delighted  than  I." 

The  pastor  became  interested  when  the  schoolmaster 
began  to  talk  about  Jerusalem,  and  the  strange  misgivings 
which  he  had  had  long  ago  flashed  through  his  mind  again. 
In  the  middle  of  the  service  the  door  opened,  and  a  number 
of  people  came  in.  There  were  about  twenty,  and  they 
stopped  at  the  door  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  meeting. 
"Ah ! "  thought  the  parson.  "  I  knew  something  was  going 
to  happen." 

Storm  had  no  sooner  said  "Amen"  than  a  voice,  coming 
from  some  one  in  the  group  down  by  the  door,  piped  up : 
"I  should  very  much  like  to  say  a  few  words." 

"That  must  be  Hok  Matts  Ericsson,"  thought  the 
pastor,  and  others  with  him.  For  no  one  else  in  the 
parish  had  such  a  sweet  and  childlike  treble. 

The  next  moment  a  little  meek-faced  man  made  his 


IN  ZION  113 

way  up  to  the  platform,  followed  by  a  score  of  men  and 
women  who  seemed  to  be  there  for  the  purpose  of  sup- 
porting and  encouraging  him. 

The  pastor,  the  schoolmaster,  and  the  entire  congre- 
gation sat  in  suspense.  "Hok  Matts  has  come  to  tell 
us  of  some  awful  calamity,"  they  thought.  "  Either  the 
king  is  dead,  or  war  has  been  declared,  or  perhaps  some 
poor  creature  has  fallen  into  the  river  and  been  drowned." 
Still  Hok  Matts  did  not  look  as  if  he  had  any  bad  news 
to  impart.  He  seemed  to  be  in  earnest  and  somewhat 
stirred,  but  at  the  same  time  he  looked  so  pleased  that  he 
could  hardly  keep  from  smiling. 

"I  want  to  say  to  the  schoolmaster  and  to  the  congre- 
gation," he  began,  "that  Sunday  before  last,  while  I  was 
sitting  at  home  with  my  family,  the  Spirit  descended 
upon  me,  and  I  began  to  preach.  We  couldn't  get  down 
here  to  listen  to  Storm,  on  account  of  the  ice  and  sleet, 
and  we  sat  longing  to  hear  the  Word  of  God.  Then  all 
at  once  I  had  the  feeling  that  I  could  speak  myself.  I've 
been  preaching  now  for  two  Sundays,  and  all  my 
folks  at  home  and  our  neighbours,  too,  have  told  me 
that  I  ought  to  come  down  here  and  let  all  the  people 
hear  me." 

Hok  Matts  also  said  he  was  astonished  that  the  gift 
of  speech  should  have  fallen  upon  so  humble  a  man. 
"But  the  schoolmaster  himself  is  only  a  peasant,"  he 
added,  with  a  little  more  confidence. 

After  this  preamble,  Hok  Matts  folded  his  hands  and 
was  ready  to  begin  preaching  at  once.  But  by  that  time 


n4  JERUSALEM 

the  schoolmaster  had  recovered  from  his  first  shock  of 
surprise. 

"Do  you  think  of  speaking  here  now,  Hok  Matts — 
immediately?" 

"Yes,  that's  my  intention,"  the  man  replied.  He 
grew  as  frightened  as  a  child  when  Storm  glowered  at 
him.  "It  was  my  purpose,  of  course,  to  first  ask  leave 
of  the  schoolmaster  and  the  rest,"  he  stammered. 

"We're  all  through  for  the  day,"  said  Storm,  conclu- 
sively. 

Then  the  meek  little  man  began  to  beg  with  tears  in  his 
voice:  "Won't  you  please  let  me  say  a  few  words?  I 
only  want  to  tell  of  the  things  that  have  come  to  me  when 
walking  behind  the  plow  and  when  working  by  myself 
at  the  kiln;  and  now  they  want  to  come  out." 

But  the  schoolmaster,  though  he  had  had  such  a  day  of 
triumph  himself,  felt  no  pity  for  the  poor  little  man. 
"Matts  Ericsson  comes  here  with  his  own  peculiar  no- 
tions, and  claims  that  they  are  messages  from  God,"  he 
declared  rebukingly. 

Hok  Matts  dared  not  venture  a  protest,  and  the  school- 
master opened  the  hymnbook. 

"Let  us  all  join  in  singing  hymn  one  hundred  and 
eighty-seven,"  he  said.  Whereupon  he  read  out  the  hymn 
in  stentorian  tones,  then  he  began  to  sing  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "Are  your  windows  open  toward  Jerusalem." 

Meanwhile,  he  thought:  "It  was  well  after  all  that  the 
pastor  happened  in  to-day;  now  he  can  see  that  I  know 
how  to  maintain  order  in  my  Zion." 


IN  ZION  115 

But  no  sooner  was  the  hymn  finished  than  a  man 
jumped  to  his  feet.  It  was  proud  and  dignified  Ljung 
Bjorn  Olafsson,  who  was  married  to  one  of  the  Ingmar 
girls,  and  was  the  owner  of  a  large  farmstead  in  the  heart 
of  the  parish. 

"We  down  at  this  end  think  that  the  schoolmaster 
might  have  consulted  our  wishes  before  turning  Matts 
Ericsson  down,"  he  mildly  protested. 

"  Oh,  you  think  so,  do  you,  Sonny  ? "  The  schoolmaster 
spoke  in  just  the  kind  of  tone  he  would  have  used  in  re- 
proving some  young  whippersnapper.  "Then  let  me 
tell  you  that  no  one  but  myself  has  any  say  here,  in  this 
hall." 

Ljung  Bjorn  turned  blood  red.  He  had  not  meant  to 
provoke  a  quarrel  with  Storm,  but  had  simply  wished  to 
soften  the  blow  for  Hok  Matts,  who  was  an  inoffensive 
man.  Just  the  same,  he  could  not  help  feeling  chagrined 
over  the  reply  he  had  got;  but  before  he  could  think  of  a 
retort,  one  of  the  men  who  had  come  in  with  Hok  Matts 
spoke  up: 

"Twice  I  have  heard  Hok  Matts  preach,  and  must  say 
that  he  is  wonderful.  I  believe  that  every  one  present 
would  be  helped  by  hearing  him." 

The  schoolmaster  answered  pleasantly  enough,  but  in 
the  old  admonishing  tone  of  the  classroom:  "Surely  you 
understand,  Krister  Larsson,  that  I  can't  allow  this. 
Were  I  to  let  Hok  Matts  preach  to-day,  then  you,  Krister, 
would  want  to  preach  next  Sunday,  and  Ljung  Bjorn  the 
Sunday  after  I" 


n6  JERUSALEM 

At  this  several  persons  laughed;  but  Ljung  Bjorn  was 
ready  with  a  sharp  rejoinder:  "I  see  no  reason  why  Krister 
and  I  shouldn't  be  as  well  qualified  to  preach  as  the  school- 
master," he  said. 

Thereupon  Tims  Halvor  arose  and  tried  to  quiet  them 
and  to  prevent  possible  strife.  "Those  of  us  who  have 
furnished  the  money  to  build  and  run  this  mission  should 
be  consulted  before  any  new  preacher  is  allowed  to 
speak." 

By  that  time  Krister  Larsson  had  become  aroused  and 
was  on  his  feet  again.  "I  recall  to  mind  that  when  we 
built  this  hall  we  were  all  agreed  that  it  should  be  a  free- 
for-all  meetinghouse  and  not  a  church  where  only  one 
man  is  allowed  to  preach  the  Word." 

When  Krister  had  spoken  every  one  seemed  to  breathe 
freer.  Only  one  short  hour  before  it  had  not  occurred 
to  them  that  they  could  ever  wish  to  hear  any  speaker  but 
the  schoolmaster.  Now  they  thought  it  would  be  a  treat 
to  hear  something  different.  "We'd  like  to  hear  some- 
thing new  and  to  see  a  fresh  face  behind  the  rostrum," 
somebody  muttered. 

In  all  likelihood  there  would  have  been  no  further  dis- 
turbance if  only  Bullet  Gunner  had  remained  away  that 
day.  He,  too,  was  a  brother-in-law  of  Tims  Halvor  and 
a  tall,  gaunt-looking  fellow,  with  a  swarthy  skin  and 
piercing  eyes.  Gunner,  as  well  as  every  one  else,  liked 
the  schoolmaster,  but  what  he  liked  even  more  was  a  good 
scrap. 

"There  was  a  lot  of  talk  about  freedom  while  we  were 


IN  ZION  117 

building  this  house,"  said  Gunner  "but  I  haven't  heard 
a  liberal  word  since  the  place  was  first  opened." 

The  schoolmaster  grew  purple.  Gunner's  remark  was 
the  first  evidence  of  any  actual  hostility  or  revolt.  "Let 
me  remind  you,  Bullet  Gunner,  that  here  you  have  heard 
the  true  freedom  preached,  as  Luther  taught  it;  but  here 
there  has  been  no  license  to  preach  the  kind  of  new-fangled 
ideas  that  spring  up  one  day  and  fall  to  the  ground  the 
next." 

"The  schoolmaster  would  have  us  think  that  everything 
new  is  worthless  as  soon  as  it  touches  upon  doctrine," 
Gunner  replied  soothingly  and  half  regretfully.  "He 
approves  of  our  using  new  methods  of  caring  for  our  cattle, 
and  wants  us  to  adopt  the  latest  agricultural  machinery; 
but  we  are  not  allowed  to  know  anything  about  the  new 
implements  with  which  God's  acres  are  now  being  tilled." 

Storm  began  to  think  that  Bullet  Gunner's  bark  was 
worse  than  his  bite.  "Is  it  your  meaning,"  he  said, 
adopting  a  facetious  tone,  "that  we  should  preach  a 
different  doctrine  here  from  the  Lutheran?" 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  a  new  doctrine,"  roared  Gunner, 
"but  as  to  who  shall  preach;  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  Matts 
Ericsson  is  as  good  a  Lutheran  as  either  the  schoolmaster 
or  the  parson." 

For  the  moment  the  schoolmaster  had  forgotten  about 
the  parson;  but  now  he  glanced  down  at  him.  The  clergy- 
man sat  quietly  musing,  his  chin  resting  upon  the  knob  of 
his  cane.  There  was  a  curious  gleam  in  his  eyes,  which 
were  fixed  upon  Storm,  never  leaving  him  for  a  second. 


ii8  JERUSALEM 

"After  all,  perhaps  it  would  have  been  just  as  well  if 
the  parson  hadn't  come  to-day,"  thought  the  school- 
master. What  was  then  taking  place  reminded  Storm  of 
something  he  had  experienced  before.  It  could  be  just 
like  this  in  school  sometimes,  on  a  bright  spring  morning, 
when  a  little  bird  perched  itself  outside  the  schoolroom 
window  and  warbled  lustily.  Then  all  at  once  the  chil- 
dren would  tease  and  beg  to  be  excused  from  school;  they 
abandoned  their  studies  and  made  so  much  fuss  and 
noise  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  bring  them  to 
order.  Something  of  the  same  sort  had  come  over  the 
congregation  after  Hok  Matts's  arrival.  However,  the 
schoolmaster  meant  to  show  the  pastor  and  all  of  them 
that  he  was  man  enough  to  quell  the  mutiny.  "First,  I 
will  leave  them  alone  and  let  the  ringleaders  talk  them- 
selves hoarse,"  he  thought,  and  went  and  sat  down  on  a 
chair  behind  the  table  on  which  the  water  bottle  stood. 

Instantly  there  arose  against  him  a  perfect  storm  of 
protests;  for  by  that  time  every  one  had  become  inflated 
with  the  idea  that  they  were  all  of  them  just  as  good  as 
the  schoolmaster.  "Why  should  he  alone  be  allowed  to 
tell  us  what  to  believe  and  what  not  to  believe!"  they 
shouted. 

These  ideas  seemed  to  be  new  to  most  of  them,  yet  from 
the  talk  it  became  evident  that  they  had  been  germinating 
in  their  minds  ever  since  the  schoolmaster  had  built  the 
mission  house,  and  shown  them  that  a  plain,  ordinary 
man  can  preach  the  Word  of  God. 

After  a  bit  Storm  remarked  to  himself:     "The  tempest 


IN  ZION  119 

of  the  children  must  have  spent  itself  by  this.  Now  is  the 
time  to  show  them  who  is  master  here."  Whereupon  he 
rose  up,  pounded  the  table  with  his  fist,  and  thundered: 
"Stop!  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this  racketing?  I'm 
going  now,  and  you  must  go,  too,  so  that  I  may  put  out 
the  lights  and  lock  up." 

Some  of  them  actually  did  get  up,  for  they  had  all  gone 
to  Storm's  school,  and  knew  that  when  their  teacher  rapped 
on  the  table  it  meant  that  everybody  had  to  mind.  Yet 
the  majority  stoically  kept  their  seats. 

"The  schoolmaster  forgets  that  now  we  are  grown  men," 
said  one;  "but  he  still  seems  to  think  we  should  run  just 
because  he  happens  to  rap  on  the  table!"  said  another. 

They  went  right  on  talking  about  their  wanting  to  hear 
some  new  speakers,  and  which  ones  they  should  call  in. 
They  were  already  quarrelling  among  themselves  as  to 
whether  it  should  be  the  Waldenstromites  or  colporteurs 
from  the  National  Evangelical  Union. 

The  schoolmaster  stood  staring  at  the  assemblage  as 
if  he  were  looking  at  some  weird  monstrosity.  For  up 
to  that  time  he  had  seen  only  the  child  in  each  individ- 
ual face.  But  now  all  the  round  baby  cheeks,  the  soft 
baby  curls,  and  the  mild  baby  eyes  had  vanished,  and  he 
saw  only  a  gathering  of  adults,  with  hard,  set  faces;  he 
felt  that  over  such  as  these  he  had  no  control.  He  did 
not  even  know  what  to  say  to  them. 

The  tumult  continued,  growing  louder  and  louder. 
The  schoolmaster  kept  still  and  let  them  rage.  Bullet 
Gunner,  Ljung  Bjorn,  and  Krister  Larsson  led  the  attack. 


120  JERUSALEM 

Hok  Matts,  who  was  the  innocent  cause  of  all  the  trouble, 
rose  to  his  feet  time  and  again  and  begged  them  to  be 
quiet,  but  no  one  listened  to  him. 

Once  again  the  schoolmaster  glanced  down  at  the  par- 
son, who  was  still  quietly  musing,  the  same  gleam  in  his 
eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  the  schoolmaster. 

"He's  probably  thinking  of  that  evening  four  years 
ago  when  I  told  him  I  would  build  a  mission,"  thought 
Storm.  "He  was  right,  too.  Everything  has  turned  out 
just  as  he  said  it  would:  heresy,  revolt,  and  division. 
Perhaps  we  might  have  escaped  all  this  if  I  hadn't  been 
so  bent  upon  building  my  Zion." 

The  instant  this  became  clear  to  the  schoolmaster,  his 
head  went  up  and  his  backbone  straightened.  He  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  small  key  of  polished  steel.  It  was  the 
key  to  Zion!  He  held  it  toward  the  light  so  that  it  could 
be  seen  from  all  parts  of  the  hall. 

"Now  I'm  going  to  lay  this  key  upon  the  table,"  he 
said,  "and  I  shall  never  touch  it  again,  for  I  see  now  that 
it  has  unlocked  the  door  to  everything  which  I  had  hoped 
to  shut  out." 

Whereupon  the  schoolmaster  put  the  key  down,  took 
up  his  hat,  and  walked  straight  over  to  the  pastor. 

"I  want  to  thank  you,  Parson,  for  coming  to  hear  me 
to-day,"  he  said;  "for  if  you  hadn't  come  to-day  you 
never  could  have  heard  me." 


THE  WILD  HUNT 


THE  WILD  HUNT 

THERE  were  many  who  thought  that  Elof  Ersson 
should  have  found  no  peace  in  his  grave  for  the 
shameful  way  in  which  he  had  dealt  with  Karin 
and  young  Ingmar.  He  had  deliberately  made  way  with 
all  of  his  and  Karin's  money,  so  she  would  suffer  hardship 
after  his  death.  And  he  left  the  farm  so  heavily  mort- 
gaged, that  Karin  would  have  been  forced  to  turn  it  over 
to  the  creditors,  had  not  Halvor  been  rich  enough  to  buy 
in  the  property  and  pay  off  the  debts.  Ingmar  Ingmars- 
son's  twenty  thousand  kroner,  of  which  Elof  had  been 
sole  trustee,  had  entirely  disappeared.  Some  people 
thought  that  Elof  had  buried  the  money,  others  that 
he  had  given  it  away;  in  any  case,  it  was  not  to  be 
found. 

When  Ingmar  learned  that  he  was  penniless,  he  con- 
sulted Karin  as  to  what  he  should  do.  Ingmar  told  his 
sister  that  of  all  things  he  would  prefer  to  be  a  teacher, 
and  begged  her  to  let  him  remain  with  the  Storms  until 
he  was  old  enough  to  enter  college.  Down  at  the  village 
he  would  always  be  able  to  borrow  books  from  the  school- 
master or  the  pastor,  he  said,  and,  moreover,  he  could  help 
Storm  at  the  school,  by  reading  with  the  children;  that 
would  be  excellent  practice. 

Karin  turned  this  over  in  her  mind  before  answering. 

123 


124  JERUSALEM 

"I  suppose  you  wouldn't  care  to  remain  at  home,  since 
you  can't  become  master  here?"  she  said. 

When  Storm's  daughter  heard  that  Ingmar  was  coming 
back,  she  pulled  a  long  face.  It  seemed  to  her  that  if 
they  must  have  a  boy  living  with  them,  they  might  better 
have  the  judge's  good-looking  son,  Bertil,  or  there  was 
jolly  Gabriel,  the  spn  of  Hok  Matts  Ericsson. 

Gertrude  liked  both  Gabriel  and  Bertil,  but  as  for 
Ingmar,  she  couldn't  exactly  tell  what  her  feelings  were 
toward  him.  She  liked  him  because  he  helped  her  with 
her  lessons  and  minded  her  like  a  slave;  but  she  could  also 
become  thoroughly  put  out  with  him  sometimes,  because 
he  was  clumsy  and  tiresome  and  did  not  know  how  to 
play.  She  had  to  admire  his  diligence  and  his  aptitude 
for  learning,  yet  at  times  she  fairly  despised  him  for  not 
being  able  to  show  off  what  he  could  do. 

Gertrude's  head  was  always  full  of  droll  fancies  and 
dreams,  which  she  confided  to  Ingmar.  If  the  lad  hap- 
pened to  be  away  for  a  few  days,  she  grew  restless,  and  felt 
that  she  had  no  one  to  talk  to;  but  as  soon  as  he  got  back 
she  hardly  knew  what  she  had  been  longing  for. 

The  girl  had  never  thought  of  Ingmar  as  a  boy  of  means 
and  good  family  connections,  but  treated  him  rather  as 
though  he  were  a  little  beneath  her.  Yet  when  she  heard 
that  Ingmar  had  become  poor,  she  wept  for  him,  and 
when  he  told  her  that  he  would  not  try  to  get  back 
his  property,  but  meant  to  earn  his  own  living  as  a 
teacher,  she  was  so  indignant  she  could  hardly  control 
herself. 


THE  WILD  HUNT  125 

The  Lord  only  knows  all  she  had  dreamed  that  he 
would  be  some  day! 

The  children  at  Storm's  school  were  given  very  rigid 
training.  They  were  held  strictly  to  their  tasks,  and  only 
on  rare  occasions  were  they  allowed  any  amusements. 
However,  all  this  was  changed  the  spring  Storm  gave  up 
his  preaching.  Then  Mother  Stina  said  to  him:  "Now, 
Storm,  we  must  let  the  young  folks  be  young.  Remember 
that  you  and  I  were  young  once.  Why,  when  we  were 
seventeen,  we  danced  many  a  night  from  sundown  to 
sunup." 

So,  one  Saturday  night,  when  young  Gabriel  and  Gun- 
hild,  the  councilman's  daughter,  paid  a  visit  to  the  Storms, 
they  actually  had  a  dance  at  the  schoolhouse. 

Gertrude  was  wild  with  delight  at  being  allowed  to 
dance,  but  Ingmar  would  not  join  in.  Instead,  he  took 
up  a  book,  and  went  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa  by  the  win- 
dow. Time  and  again  Gertrude  tried  to  make  him  lay 
down  his  book,  but  Ingmar,  sulky  and  shy,  refused  to 
budge.  Mother  Stina  looked  at  him  and  shook  her  head. 
"It's  plain  he  comes  of  an  old,  old  stock,"  she  thought. 
"That  kind  can  never  be  really  young." 

The  three  who  did  dance  had  such  a  good  time!  They 
talked  of  going  to  a  regular  dance  the  next  Saturday 
evening,  and  asked  the  schoolmaster  and  Mother  Stina 
what  they  thought  about  it. 

"If  you  will  do  your  dancing  at  Strong  Ingmar's,  I  give 
my  consent,"  said  Mother  Stina;  "for  there  you  will  meet 
only  respectable  folk." 


126  JERUSALEM 

Then  Storm  also  made  it  conditional.  "I  can't  allow 
Gertrude  to  go  to  a  dance  unless  Ingmar  goes  along  to 
look  after  her,"  he  said. 

Whereupon  all  three  rushed  up  to  Ingmar  and  begged 
him  to  accompany  them. 

"No!"  he  growled,  without  even  glancing  up  from  his 
book. 

"It's  no  good  asking  him!"  said  Gertrude  in  a  tone 
that  made  Ingmar  raise  his  eyes.  Gertrude  looked 
radiantly  beautiful  afcer  the  dance.  She  smiled  scornfully, 
and  her  eyes  flashed  as  she  turned  away.  It  was  plainly 
to  be  seen  how  much  she  despised  him  for  sitting  there  so 
ugly  and  sulky,  like  some  crotchety  old  man.  Ingmar 
had  to  alter  his  mind  and  say  "yes" — there  was  no  way 
out  of  it. 

A  few  evenings  later  while  Gertrude  and  Mother  Stina 
sat  spinning  in  the  kitchen,  the  girl  suddenly  noticed  that 
her  mother  was  getting  uneasy.  Every  little  while  she 
would  stop  her  spinning-wheel  and  listen.  "I  can't 
imagine  what  that  noise  is,"  she  said.  "Do  you  hear 
anything,  Gertrude?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  the  girl.  "There  must  be  some 
one  upstairs  in  the  classroom." 

"Who  could  be  there  at  this  hour?"  Mother  Stina 
flouted.  "Only  listen  to  the  rustling  and  the  pattering 
from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the  other!" 

And  there  certainly  was  a  rustling  and  a  pattering  and 
a  bumping  about  over  their  heads,  that  made  both  Ger- 
trude and  her  mother  feel  creepy. 


THE  WILD  HUNT  127 

"There  must  surely  be  some  one  up  there,"  insisted 
Gertrude. 

"There  can't  be,"  Mother  Stina  declared.  "Let  me 
tell  you  that  this  thing  has  been  going  on  every  night  since 
you  danced  here." 

Gertrude  perceived  that  her  mother  imagined  the  house 
had  been  haunted  since  the  night  of  the  dance.  If  that 
idea  were  allowed  to  become  fixed  in  Mother  Stina's  mind, 
there  would  be  no  more  dancing  for  Gertrude. 

"I'm  going  up  there  to  see  what  it  is,"  said  the  girl, 
rising;  but  her  mother  caught  hold  of  her  skirt. 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  dare  let  you  go,"  she  said. 

"Nonsense,  mother!     It's  best  to  find  out  what  this  is." 

"Then  I'd  better  go  with  you,"  the  mother  decided. 

They  crept  softly  up  the  stairs.  When  they  got  to  the 
door  they  were  afraid  to  open  it.  Mother  Stina  bent 
down  and  peeped  through  the  keyhole.  Presently  she 
gave  a  little  chuckle. 

"What  pleases  you,  mother?"  asked  Gertrude. 

"See  for  yourself,  only  be  very  quiet ! " 

Then  Gertrude  put  her  eye  to  the  keyhole.  Inside, 
benches  and  desks  had  been  pushed  against  the  wall,  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  schoolroom,  amid  a  cloud  of  dust, 
Ingmar  Ingmarsson  was  whirling  round,  with  a  chair  in 
his  arms. 

"Has  Ingmar  gone  mad!"  exclaimed  Gertrude. 

"Ssh!"  warned  the  mother,  drawing  her  away  from  the 
door  and  down  the  stairs.  "He  must  be  trying  to  teach 
himself  to  dance.  I  suppose  he  wants  to  learn  how,  so 


128  JERUSALEM 

he'll  be  able  to  dance  at  the  party,"  she  added,  with  a 
smirk.  Then  Mother  Stina  began  to  shake  with  laughter. 
"He  came  near  frightening  the  life  out  of  me,"  she  con- 
fessed. "Thank  God  he  can  be  young  for  once!"  When 
she  had  got  over  her  fit  of  laughing,  she  said:  "You're 
not  to  say  a  word  about  this  to  anybody,  do  you  hear!" 


Saturday  evening  the  four  young  people  stood  on  the 
steps  of  the  schoolhouse,  ready  to  start.  Mother  Stina 
looked  them  over  approvingly.  The  boys  had  on  yellow 
buckskin  breeches  and  green  homespun  waistcoats,  with 
bright  red  sleeves.  Gunhild  and  Gertrude  wore  striped 
skirts  bordered  with  red  cloth,  and  white  blouses,  with 
big  puffed  sleeves;  flowered  kerchiefs  were  crossed  over 
their  bodices,  and  they  had  on  aprons  that  were  as  flowered 
as  their  kerchiefs. 

As  the  four  of  them  walked  along  in  the  twilight  of 
a  perfect  spring  evening,  nothing  was  said  for  quite  a  long 
time.  Now  and  then  Gertrude  would  cast  a  side  glance  at 
Ingmar,  thinking  of  how  he  had  worked  to  learn  to  dance. 
Whatever  the  reason — whether  it  was  the  memory  of 
Ingmar's  weird  dancing,  or  the  anticipation  of  attending  a 
regular  dance — her  thoughts  became  light  and  airy.  She 
managed  to  keep  just  a  little  behind  the  others,  that  she 
might  muse  undisturbed.  She  had  made  up  quite  a 
little  story  about  how  the  trees  had  come  by  their  new 
leaves. 

It  happened  in  this  way,  she  thought:  the  trees,  after 


THE  WILD  HUNT  129 

sleeping  peacefully  and  quietly  the  whole  winter,  suddenly 
began  to  dream.  They  dreamt  that  summer  had  come. 
They  seemed  to  see  the  fields  dressed  in  green  grass  and  wav- 
ing corn;  the  hawthorn  shimmered  with  new-blown  roses; 
brooks  and  ponds  were  spread  with  the  leaves  of  the  water- 
lily;  the  stones  were  hidden  under  the  creeping  tendrils  of 
the  twin  flower,  and  the  forest  carpet  was  thick  with  star 
flowers.  And  amid  all  this  that  was  clothed  and  decked 
out,  the  trees  saw  themselves  standing  gaunt  and  naked. 
They  began  to  feel  ashamed  of  their  nakedness,  as  often 
happens  in  dreams. 

In  their  confusion  and  embarrassment,  the  trees  fancied 
that  all  the  rest  were  making  fun  of  them.  The  bumble- 
bees came  buzzingly  up  to  mock  at  them,  the  magpies 
laughed  them  to  scorn,  while  the  other  birds  sang  taunting 
ditties. 

"Where  shall  we  find  something  to  put  on?"  asked  the 
trees  in  despair;  but  they  had  not  a  leaf  to  their  names  on 
either  twig  or  branch,  and  their  distress  was  so  terrible 
that  it  awakened  them. 

And  glancing  about,  drowsy  like,  their  first  thought 
was:  "Thank  God  it  was  only  a  dream!  There  is  certainly 
no  summer  hereabout.  It's  lucky  for  us  that  we  haven't 
overslept." 

But  as  they  looked  around  more  carefully,  they  noticed 
that  the  streams  were  clear  of  ice,  grass  blades  and  crocuses 
peeped  out  from  their  beds  of  soil,  and  under  their  own 
bark  the  sap  was  running.  "Spring  is  here  at  all  events," 
said  the  trees,  "  so  it  was  well  w?  awoke.  We  have  slept 


i3o  JERUSALEM 

long  enough  for  this  year;  now  it's  high  time  we  were 
getting  dressed." 

So  the  birches  hurriedly  put  on  some  sticky  pale  green 
leaves,  and  the  maples  a  few  green  flowers.  The  leaves  of 
the  alder  came  forth  in  such  a  crinkly  and  unfinished  state 
that  they  looked  quite  malformed,  but  the  slender  leaves 
of  the  willow  slipped  out  of  their  buds  smooth  and  shapely 
from  the  start. 

Gertrude  smiled  to  herself  as  she  walked  along  and 
thought  this  up.  She  only  wished  she  had  been  alone  with 
Ingmar  so  she  could  have  told  it  all  to  him. 

They  had  a  long  way  to  go  to  get  to  the  Ingmar  Farm — 
more  than  an  hour's  tramp.  They  followed  the  riverside; 
all  the  while  Gertrude  kept  walking  a  little  behind  the 
others.  Her  fancy  had  begun  to  play  around  the  red  glow 
of  the  sunset,  which  flamed  now  above  the  river,  now  above 
the  strand.  Gray  alder  and  green  birch  were  enveloped  by 
the  shimmer,  flashing  red  one  instant,  the  next  taking  on 
their  natural  hues. 

Suddenly  Ingmar  stopped,  and  broke  off  in  the  middle 
of  something  he  was  telling. 

"What's  the  matter,  Ingmar?"  asked  Gunhild. 

Ingmar,  pale  as  a  ghost,  stood  gazing  at  something  in  front 
of  him.  The  others  saw  only  a  wide  plain  covered  with 
grain  fields  and  encircled  by  a  range  of  hills,  and  in  the 
centre  of  the  plain  a  big  farmstead.  At  that  moment  the 
glow  of  sunset  rested  upon  the  farm;  all  the  window  panes 
glittered,  and  the  old  roofs  and  walls  had  a  bright  red 
glimmer  about  them. 


THE  WILD  HUNT  131 

Gertrude  promptly  stepped  up  to  the  others,  and  after  a 
quick  glance  at  Ingmar,  she  drew  Gunhild  and  Gabriel 
aside. 

"We  mustn't  question  him  about  anything  around 
here,"  she  said  under  her  breath.  "That  place  over 
yonder  is  the  Ingmar  Farm.  The  sight  of  it  has  probably 
made  him  sad.  He  hasn't  been  at  home  in  two  years — not 
since  he  lost  all  his  money." 

The  road  which  they  had  taken  was  the  one  leading  past 
the  farm  and  down  to  Strong  Ingmar's  cabin,  at  the  edge  of 
the  forest. 

Soon  Ingmar  came  running  after,  calling,  "Hadn't  we 
better  go  this  way  instead?"  Then  he  led  them  in  on  a 
bypath  that  wound  around  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and 
by  which  they  could  reach  the  cabin  without  having  to 
cross  the  farm  proper. 

"You  know  Strong  Ingmar,  I  suppose?"  said  Gabriel. 

" Oh,  yes,"  young  Ingmar  replied.  "  We  used  to  be  good 
friends  in  the  old  days." 

"Is  it  true  that  he  understands  magic?"  asked  Gunhild. 

"Well — no!"  Ingmar  answered  rather  hesitatingly,  as 
if  half  believing  it  himself. 

"You  may  as  well  tell  us  what  you  know,"  persisted 
Gunhild. 

"The  schoolmaster  says  we  mustn't  believe  in  such 
things." 

"The  schoolmaster  can't  prevent  a  person  seeing  what 
he  sees  and  believing  what  he  knows,"  Gabriel  declared. 

Ingmar  wanted  to  tell  them  all  about  his  home;  memories 


i32  JERUSALEM 

of  his  childhood  came  back  to  him  at  sight  of  the  old  place. 
"I  can  tell  you  about  something  that  I  saw  once,"  he  said. 
"It  happened  one  winter  when  father  and  Strong  Ingmar 
were  up  in  the  forest  working  at  the  kiln.  When  Christ- 
mas came  around,  Strong  Ingmar  offered  to  tend  the  kiln  by 
himself,  so  that  father  could  come  home  for  the  holidays. 
The  day  before  Christmas,  mother  sent  me  up  to  the  forest 
with  a  basket  of  good  fare  for  Strong  Ingmar.  I  started 
early,  so  as  to  be  there  before  the  midday  dinner  hour. 
When  I  came  up,  father  and  Strong  Ingmar  had  just  fin- 
ished drawing  a  kiln,  and  all  the  charcoal  had  been  spread 
on  the  ground  to  cool.  It  was  still  smoking  and,  where 
the  coals  lay  thickest,  it  was  ready  to  take  fire,  which  is 
something  that  must  not  happen.  To  prevent  that  is  the 
most  important  part  of  the  entire  process  of  charcoal 
making.  Therefore,  father  said  as  soon  as  he  saw  me: 
Tm  afraid  you'll  have  to  go  home  alone,  little  Ingmar.  I 
can't  leave  Strong  Ingmar  with  all  this  work.'  Strong 
Ingmar  walked  along  the  side  of  the  heap  where  the  smoke 
rose  thickest.  *  You  can  go,  Big  Ingmar,'  he  said.  'I've 
managed  worse  things  than  this.'  In  a  little  while  the 
smoke  grew  less.  'Now  let's  see  what  kind  of  a  Christmas 
treat  Brita  has  sent  me,'  said  Strong  Ingmar,  taking  the 
basket  from  me.  'Come,  let  me  show  you  what  a  fine 
house  we've  got  here.'  Then  he  took  me  into  the  hut 
where  he  and  father  lived.  At  the  back  was  a  rude  stone, 
and  the  other  walls  were  made  up  of  branches  of  spruce  and 
blackthorn.  'Well,  my  lad,  you  never  guessed  that  your 
father  had  a  royal  castle  like  this  in  the  forest,  eh?'  said 


THE  WILD  HUNT  133 

Strong  Ingmar.  'Here  are  walls  that  keep  out  both  storm 
and  frost,'  he  laughed,  thrusting  his  arm  clean  through  the 
spruce  branches. 

"Soon  father  came  in  laughing.  He  and  the  old  man 
were  black  with  soot  and  reeking  with  the  odour  of  sour 
charcoal  smoke.  But  never  had  I  seen  father  so  happy  and 
full  of  fun.  Neither  of  them  could  stand  upright  in  the 
hut,  and  the  only  furniture  in  the  place  were  two  bunks 
made  of  spruce  twigs  and  a  couple  of  flat  stones  on  which 
they  had  built  a  fire;  yet  they  were  perfectly  contented. 
They  sat  down,  side  by  side,  on  one  of  the  bunks,  and  opened 
the  basket.  'I  don't  know  whether  you  can  have  any  of 
this,'  said  Strong  Ingmar  to  father,  'for  it's  my  Christmas 
dinner,  you  know.'  'Seeing  it's  Christmas  Eve  you  must 
be  good  to  me,'  said  father.  'At  a  time  like  this  I  suppose 
it  would  never  do  to  let  a  poor  old  charcoal  burner  starve,' 
Strong  Ingmar  then  said. 

"They  carried  on  like  that  all  the  time  they  were  eating. 
Mother  had  sent  a  little  brandy  along  with  the  food.  I 
marvelled  that  people  could  be  so  happy  over  food  and 
drink.  'You'll  have  to  tell  your  mother  that  Big  Ingmar 
has  eaten  up  everything,'  said  the  old  man,  'and  that  she 
will  have  to  send  more  to-morrow.'  'So  I  see,'  said  I. 

"Just  then  I  was  startled  by  a  crackling  noise  in  the  fire- 
place. It  sounded  as  if  some  one  had  cast  a  handful  of 
pebbles  on  the  stones.  Father  did  not  notice  it,  but  at 
once  Strong  Ingmar  said :  'What,  so  soon  ? '  Yet  he  went 
on  eating.  Then  there  was  more  crackling;  this  time  it 
was  much  louder.  Now  it  sounded  as  if  a  shovelful  of  stones 


134  JERUSALEM 

had  been  thrown  on  the  fire.  'Well,  well,  is  it  so  urgent!' 
Strong  Ingmar  exclaimed.  Then  he  went  out.  'The 
charcoal  must  be  afire!'  he  shouted  back.  'Just  you  sit 
still,  Big  Ingmar.  I'll  attend  to  this  myself.'  Father  and 
I  sat  very  quiet. 

"In  a  little  while  Strong  Ingmar  returned,  and  the  fun 
began  anew.  'I  haven't  had  such  a  merry  Christmas  in 
years,'  he  laughed.  He  had  no  sooner  got  the  words  out 
of  his  mouth  than  the  crackling  started  afresh.  'What, 
again?  Well,  I  never!'  and  out  he  flew  in  a  jiffy.  The 
charcoal  was  afire  again.  When  the  old  man  came  back 
for  the  second  time,  father  said  to  him:  'I  see  now  that  you 
have  such  good  help  up  here  that  you  can  get  along  by 
yourself.'  'Yes,  you  can  safely  go  home  and  keep  your 
Christmas,  Big  Ingmar,  for  here  there  are  those  who  will 
help  me.'  Then  father  and  I  went  home,  and  everything 
was  all  right.  And  never,  either  before  or  afterward,  was 
any  kiln  tended  by  Strong  Ingmar  known  to  get  afire." 

Gunhild  thanked  Ingmar  for  his  story,  but  Gertrude 
walked  on  in  silence,  as  if  she  had  become  frightened.  It 
was  beginning  to  get  dark;  everything  that  had  looked  so 
rosy  a  while  ago  was  now  either  blue  or  gray.  Here  and 
there  in  the  forest  could  be  seen  a  shiny  leaf  that  gleamed 
in  the  twilight  like  the  red  eye  of  a  troll. 

Gertrude  was  astonished  at  Ingmar  having  talked  so 
much  and  so  long.  He  seemed  like  another  person  since 
coming  in  on  home  ground;  he  carried  his  head  higher  than 
usual,  and  stepped  with  firmer  tread.  Gertrude  did  not 
quite  like  this  change  in  him;  it  made  her  feel  uneasy.  All 


THE  WILD  HUNT  135 

the  same  she  spunked  up,  and  began  to  tease  Ingmar  about 
his  going  home  to  dance. 

Then  at  last  they  came  to  a  little  gray  hut.  Candles 
were  burning  inside,  the  windows  being  too  small  to  let  in 
much  light.  They  caught  the  sound  of  violin  music  and 
the  clatter  of  dancing  feet.  Still  the  girls  paused,  wonder- 
ingly.  "Is  it  here?"  they  questioned.  "Can  any  one 
dance  here?  The  place  looks  too  small  to  hold  even  one 
couple." 

"Go  along  inside,"  said  Gabriel;  "the  hut  isn't  as  tiny  as 
it  looks." 

Outside  the  door,  which  was  open,  stood  a  group  of  boys 
and  girls  who  had  danced  themselves  into  a  warm  glow;  the 
girls  were  fanning  themselves  with  their  headshawls,  and 
the  boys  had  pulled  off  their  short  black  jackets  in  order  to 
dance  in  their  bright  green  red-sleeved  waistcoats. 

The  newcomers  edged  their  way  through  the  crowd  by 
the  door  into  the  hut.  The  first  person  they  saw  was 
Strong  Ingmar — a  little  fat  man,  with  a  big  head  and  a  long 
beard. 

"  He  must  be  related  to  the  elves  and  the  trolls,"  thought 
Gertrude.  The  old  man  was  standing  upon  the  hearth, 
playing  his  fiddle,  so  as  not  to  be  in  the  way  of  the  dancers. 

The  hut  was  larger  than  it  had  appeared  from  the  out- 
side, but  it  looked  poor  and  dilapidated.  The  bare  pine 
walls  were  worm-eaten,  and  the  beams  were  blackened  by 
smoke.  There  were  no  curtains  at  the  windows,  and  no 
cover  on  the  table.  It  was  evident  that  Strong  Ingmar 
lived  by  himself.  His  children  had  all  left  him  and  gone 


136  JERUSALEM 

to  America,  and  the  only  pleasure  the  old  man  had  in  his 
loneliness  was  to  gather  the  young  folks  around  him  on  a 
Saturday  evening,  and  let  them  dance  to  his  fiddle. 

It  was  dim  in  the  hut,  and  suffocatingly  close.  Couple 
after  couple  were  whirling  around  in  there.  Gertrude 
could  scarcely  breathe,  and  wanted  to  hurry  out  again,  but 
it  was  an  impossibility  to  get  past  the  tight  wedge  of 
humanity  that  blocked  the  doorway. 

Strong  Ingmar  played  with  a  sure  stroke  and  in  perfect 
time,  but  the  instant  that  young  Ingmarsson  came  into  the 
room  he  drew  his  bow  across  the  strings,  making  a  rasping 
noise  that  brought  all  the  dancers  to  a  stop.  "It's  noth- 
ing," he  shouted.  "Go  on  with  the  dance!" 

Ingmar  placed  his  arm  around  Gertrude's  waist  to  dance 
out  the  figure.  Gertrude  seemed  very  much  surprised  at 
his  wanting  to  dance.  But  they  could  get  nowhere,  for  the 
dancers  followed  each  other  so  closely  that  no  one  who  had 
not  been  there  at  the  start  could  squeeze  in  between  them. 

The  old  man  stopped  short,  rapped  on  the  fender  with 
his  bow,  and  said  in  a  commanding  voice:  "Room  must  be 
made  for  Big  Ingmar's  son  when  there's  any  dancing  in  my 
shack!" 

With  that  every  one  turned  to  have  a  look  at  Ingmar, 
who  became  so  embarrassed  that  he  could  not  stir.  Ger- 
trude had  to  take  hold  of  him  and  fairly  drag  him  across 
the  floor. 

As  soon  as  the  dance  was  finished,  the  fiddler  came  down 
to  greet  Ingmar.  When  he  felt  Ingmar's  hand  in  his,  the 
old  man  oretended  to  be  very  much  concerned,  and  in- 


THE  WILD  HUNT  137 

stantly  let  go  of  it.  "My  goodness!"  he  exclaimed,  "be 
careful  of  those  delicate  schoolmaster  hands!  A  clumsy 
old  fellow  like  me  could  easily  crush  them." 

He  took  young  Ingmar  and  his  friends  up  to  the  table, 
driving  away  several  old  women  who  were  sitting  there, 
looking  on.  Presently  he  went  over  to  the  cupboard  and 
brought  out  some  bread  and  butter  and  root  beer. 

"I  don't,  as  a  rule, offer  refreshments  at  these  affairs,"  he 
said.  "The  others  have  to  be  content  with  just  music 
and  dancing,  but  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  must  have  a  bite 
to  eat  under  my  roof." 

Drawing  up  a  little  three-legged  stool,  the  old  man  sat 
down  in  front  of  Ingmar,  and  looked  sharply  at  him. 

"  So  you're  going  to  be  a  school-teacher,  eh  ? "  he  queried. 

Ingmar  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  there  was  the 
shadow  of  a  smile  on  his  lips,  but  all  the  same  he  answered 
rather  mournfully:  "They  have  no  use  for  me  at  home." 

"No  use  for  you?"  cried  the  old  man.  "You  don't 
know  how  soon  you  may  be  needed  on  the  farm.  Elof 
lived  only  two  years,  and  who  knows  how  long  Halvor 
will  hold  out?" 

"Halvor  is  a  strong,  hearty  fellow,"  Ingmar  reminded. 

"You  must  know,  of  course,  that  Halvor  will  turn  the 
farm  over  to  you  as  soon  as  you're  able  to  buy  it  back." 

"He'd  be  a  fool  to  give  up  the  Ingmar  Farm  now  that  it 
has  fallen  into  his  hands." 

During  this  colloquy  Ingmar  sat  gripping  the  edge  of  the 
plain  deal  table.  Suddenly  a  noise  was  heard  as  of  some- 
thing cracking.  Ingmar  had  broken  off  a  corner  of  the 


138  JERUSALEM 

table.  "If  you  become  a  school-teacher,  he'll  never  let 
you  have  the  farm,"  the  old  man  went  on. 

"You  think  not?" 

"Think — think?  Well  it's  plain  how  you  have  been 
brought  up.  Have  you  ever  driven  a  plow?" 

"No." 

"Or  tended  a  kiln,  or  felled  a  huge  pine?" 

Ingmar  sat  there  looking  quite  placid,  but  the  table 
kept  crumbling  under  his  ringers.  Finally  the  old  man 
began  to  take  notice. 

"See  here,  young  man!"  he  said  when  he  saw  what  was 
happening,  "I  shall  have  to  take  you  in  hand  once  more." 
Then  he  picked  up  some  of  the  splinters  of  the  table  and 
tried  to  fit  them  into  place.  "You  rogue!  You  ought  to 
be  going  around  to  fairs,  showing  your  tricks  for  money!" 
he  laughed,  and  dealing  Ingmar  a  hard  whack  on  the 
shoulder,  he  remarked:  "Oh,  you'd  make  a  fine  school- 
teacher, you  would!" 

In  a  twinkling  he  was  back  at  the  fireplace,  fiddling 
away.  Now  there  was  a  snap  and  a  go  to  his  performance. 
He  beat  time  with  his  foot  and  set  the  dancers  whirling. 
"This  is  young  Ingmar's  polka,"  he  called  out.  "Hoop-la! 
Now  the  whole  house  must  dance  for  young  Ingmar!" 

Two  such  pretty  girls  as  Gertrude  and  Gunhild  had  to  be 
in  every  dance,  of  course.  Ingmar  did  not  do  much  danc- 
ing. He  stood  talking  most  of  the  time  with  some  of 
the  older  men  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  Between 
dances  the  people  crowded  around  him  as  if  it  did  them 
good  just  to  look  at  him. 


THE  WILD  HUNT  139 

Gertrude  thought  Ingmar  had  entirely  forgotten  her, 
which  made  her  quite  miserable.  "Now  he  feels  that  he 
is  the  son  of  Big  Ingmar,  and  that  I  am  only  the  school- 
master's Gertrude/'  she  pouted.  It  seemed  strange  to 
her  that  she  should  take  this  so  to  heart.  Between  the 
dances  some  of  the  young  folks  went  out  for  a  breath  of 
air.  The  night  had  grown  piercingly  cold.  It  was  quite 
dark,  and  as  no  one  wanted  to  go  home,  they  all  said: 
"We'd  better  wait  a  little  while;  the  moon  will  soon  be 
out.  Now  it's  too  dark  to  start  for  home." 

Once,  when  Ingmar  and  Gertrude  happened  to  be  stand- 
ing outside  the  door,  the  old  man  came  and  drew  the  boy 
away.  "Come,  let  me  show  you  something,"  he  said, 
and  taking  Ingmar  by  the  hand,  he  led  him  through  a 
thicket  a  short  distance  away  from  the  house.  "Stand 
still  now  and  look  down!"  he  said  presently.  Then  Ing- 
mar found  himself  looking  down  a  cleft,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  something  white  shimmered.  "This  must  be 
Langfors  Rapids,"  said  young  Ingmar. 

"Right  you  are,"  nodded  the  old  man.  "Now  what 
do  you  suppose  a  waterfall  like  that  can  be  used  for,  eh?" 

"It  might  be  used  to  run  a  mill,"  said  Ingmar  thought- 
fully. 

The  old  man  laughed  to  himself.  He  patted  Ingmar  on 
the  back,  then  gave  him  a  dig  in  the  ribs  that  almost  sent 
him  into  the  rapids.  "But  who's  going  to  put  up  a  mill 
here  ?  Who's  going  to  get  rich,  and  who's  going  to  buy  the 
Ingmar  Farm,  eh?"  he  chuckled. 

"I'd  just  like  to  know,"  said  Ingmar. 


i4o  JERUSALEM 

Then  the  old  man  began  unfolding  a  big  plan  he  had  in 
mind:  Ingmar  was  to  persuade  Tims  Halvor  to  put  up  a 
sawmill  below  the  rapids,  and  afterward  lease  it  to  him. 
For  many  years  the  old  man's  dream  had  been  to  find  a 
way  by  which  Big  Ingmar's  son  might  come  into  his  own 
again.  Ingmar  stood  auietly  looking  down  at  the  foam- 
ing rapids. 

"Come,  let's  go  back  to  the  house  and  the  dancing!" 
said  the  old  man,  but  as  Ingmar  did  not  stir  he  waited  pa- 
tiently. "If  he's  the  right  sort,  he  won't  reply  to  this  to- 
day, nor  yet  to-morrow,"  he  remarked  to  himself.  "An 
Ingmarsson  has  to  have  time  to  consider." 

And  as  they  stood  there,  all  at  once  they  heard  a  sharp 
and  angry  bark  that  seemed  to  come  from  some  dog  run- 
ning loose  in  the  forest. 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Ingmar?"  asked  the  old  man. 

"Yes;  that  must  be  a  dog  on  the  rampage." 

Then  they  heard  the  bark  more  distinctly;  it  seemed 
to  be  coming  nearer,  as  if  the  beast  were  heading  straight 
for  the  hut.  The  old  man  seized  Ingmar  by  the  wrist. 
"Come,  boy!"  he  said.  "Get  into  the  house  as  quick  as 
you  can!" 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Ingmar,  astonished. 

"Get  in,  I  tell  you!" 

As  they  made  for  the  hut,  the  angry  barking  sounded  as 
if  it  were  quite  close  to  them. 

"What  kind  of  dog  is  it?"  Ingmar  .asked,  again  and 
again. 

"Get  inside,  only  get  inside!"  cried  the  old  man,  fairly 


THE  WILD  HUNT  141 

pushing  Ingmar  into  the  narrow  passageway.  Before 
closing  the  outer  door  he  shouted :  "If  there  are  any  of  you 
outside,  come  in  at  once!"  As  he  stood  holding  the  door 
open,  people  came  running  from  all  directions.  "In  with 
you,  in  with  you!"  he  shrieked  at  them,  and  stamped  im- 
patiently. 

Meanwhile  the  people  in  the  hut  were  becoming  alarmed. 
They  all  wanted  to  know  what  was  amiss.  When  the  old 
man  had  made  sure  that  everybody  was  inside,  he  closed 
and  bolted  the  door. 

"Are  you  mad,  to  be  running  about  when  you  hear  the 
mountain  dog!"  At  that  moment  the  barking  was  heard 
just  outside  the  hut;  it  was  as  if  the  mountain  dog  were 
chasing  round  and  round  the  house,  emitting  hideous  yowls. 

"Isn't  it  a  real  dog?"  asked  a  young  rustic. 

"You  can  go  out  and  call  to  it  if  you  like,  Nils  Jansson." 

Then  all  were  silent,  listening  to  the  howling  thing  which 
continued  to  go  round  and  round  without  a  stop.  It 
sounded  weird  and  dreadful.  They  began  to  shudder  and 
shake,  and  some  turned  as  white  as  death.  No,  indeed, 
this  was  no  ordinary  dog;  anybody  could  tell  that!  It 
was  doubtless  some  demon  let  loose  from  hell,  they  thought. 

The  little  old  man  was  the  only  one  who  moved  about. 
First  he  closed  the  flue,  then  he  went  around  and  snuffed 
out  the  candles. 

"No,  no!"  cried  the  womenfolk,  "don't  put  out  the 
lights!" 

"You  must  let  me  do  what  is  best  for  all  of  us,"  said  the 
old  man. 


i42  JERUSALEM 

One  of  the  girls  caught  hold  of  his  coat.  "Is  the 
mountain  dog  dangerous?"  she  asked. 

"No,  not  he,  but  what  comes  after." 

"And  what  comes  after ?" 

Again  the  old  man  listened.  Presently  he  said:  "Now 
we  must  all  be  very  still." 

Instantly  there  was  breathless  silence.  Once  again 
the  terrible  howling  seemed  to  circle  the  hut,  but  it  grew 
less  distinct  as  it  went  across  the  marsh  and  up  the  moun- 
tains on  the  other  side  of  the  valley.  Then  came  an  om- 
inous stillness.  Presently  some  man,  who  couldn't  hold 
in  any  longer,  said  that  the  dog  was  gone. 

Without  a  word  Strong  Ingmar  raised  his  hand  and 
dealt  the  man  a  blow  across  the  mouth. 

From  far  away  at  the  top  of  Mount  Klack  came  a 
piercing  sound;  it  was  like  a  howling  wind,  but  it  could 
also  have  been  a  blast  from  a  horn.  Now  and  again  a 
prolonged  blare  could  be  heard,  then  roaring  and  tramp- 
ing and  snorting. 

All  at  once  the  thing  came  dashing  down  from  the 
mountain  with  an  awful  roar.  They  could  tell  when  it 
had  reached  the  foot  of  the  slope;  they  could  tell  when  it 
swept  the  skirt  of  the  forest;  and  when  it  was  directly  above 
them.  It  was  like  the  rolling  of  thunder  across  the  face  of 
the  earth;  it  was  as  if  the  whole  mountain  had  come  tum- 
bling into  the  valley.  When  it  seemed  to  be  almost  upon 
them,  every  head  went  down.  "It  will  crush  us,"  they  all 
thought.  "It  will  surely  crush  us." 

But  what  they  felt  was  not  so  much  the  fear  of  death,  as 


THE  WILD  HUNT  143 

terror  lest  it  might  be  the  prince  of  darkness  himself  com- 
ing, with  all  his  demons.  What  frightened  them  most 
were  the  shrieks  and  moans  that  could  be  heard  above  the 
other  noises.  There  were  wails  and  groans,  laughter  and 
bellowings,  whines  and  hisses.  When  that  which  they 
had  supposed  was  a  big  thunderstorm  was  right  upon 
them,  it  seemed  to  be  a  mingling  of  groans  and  curses,  of 
sobs  and  angry  cries,  of  the  blast  of  horns,  of  crackling  fire, 
of  the  plaints  of  doomed  spirits,  of  the  mocking  laughter 
of  demons,  of  the  flapping  of  huge  wings. 

They  thought  all  the  furies  of  the  infernal  regions  had 
been  let  loose  that  night,  and  would  overwhelm  them.  The 
ground  trembled,  and  the  hut  swayed  as  if  it  were  going 
to  topple  over.  It  was  as  if  wild  horses  were  prancing  on 
the  roof;  as  if  howling  ghosts  rushed  past  the  door,  and  as 
if  owls  and  bats  were  beating  their  wings  against  the 
chimney. 

WThile  this  was  happening,  some  one  put  an  arm  around 
Gertrude's  waist  and  drew  her  to  her  knees.  Then  she 
heard  Ingmar  whisper:  "We  must  kneel  down,  Gertrude, 
and  ask  God  to  help  us." 

Only  the  moment  before  Gertrude  had  imagined  she  was 
dying,  so  terrible  was  the  fear  that  held  her.  "I  don't 
mind  having  to  die,"  she  thought;  "the  awful  part  of  it  is 
that  the  powers  of  evil  are  hovering  over  us." 

But  Gertrude  had  no  sooner  felt  Ingmar's  protecting 
arm  around  her  than  her  heart  began  to  beat  once  more, 
and  the  feeling  of  numbness  in  her  limbs  was  gone.  She 
snuggled  close  to  him.  She  was  not  frightened  now.  How 


i44  JERUSALEM 

wonderful!  Ingmar  must  have  felt  afraid  also,  yet  he  was 
able  to  impart  to  her  a  sense  of  security  and  protection. 

Finally  the  terrible  noises  died  away;  they  heard  only 
the  faintest  echoes  of  them  in  the  distance.  They  seemed 
to  have  followed  in  the  trail  of  the  dog,  down  through  the 
marsh  and  up  into  the  mountain  passes  beyond  Olaf's 
Peak. 

And  yet  the  silence  in  Strong  Ingmar's  hut  was  un- 
broken. No  one  moved,  no  one  spoke;  at  times  it  was  as  if 
fear  had  extinguished  all  life  there.  Now  and  then  through 
the  stillness  a  deep  sigh  was  heard.  No  one  moved  for  a 
long,  long  time.  Some  of  the  people  were  standing  up 
against  the  walls,  others  had  sunk  down  on  the  benches, 
but  most  of  them  were  kneeling  upon  the  floor  in  anxious 
prayer.  All  were  motionless,  stunned  by  fear. 

Thus  hour  after  hour  passed,  and  during  that  time  there 
was  many  a  one  in  that  room  who  ransacked  his  soul  and 
resolved  to  live  a  new  life — nearer  to  God  and  farther  away 
from  His  enemies,  for  each  of  those  present  thought:  "It 
is  something  that  7  have  done  which  has  brought  this  upon 
us.  This  has  happened  because  of  my  sins.  I  could  hear 
how  the  fiends  kept  calling  to  me  and  threatening  me,  and 
shrieking  my  name,  as  they  rushed  by." 

As  for  Gertrude,  her  only  thought  was:  "I  know  now 
that  I  can  never  live  without  Ingmar;  I  must  always  be 
near  him  because  of  that  feeling  of  confidence  he  gives 
one." 

Then  gradually  the  day  began  to  break,  the  faint  light  of 
dawn  came  stealing  into  the  hut,  revealing  the  many 


THE  WILD  HUNT  145 

blanched  faces.  The  twitter  of  a  bird  was  heard,  then  of 
another,  and  another.  Strong  Ingmar's  cow  began  to  low 
for  her  breakfast,  and  his  cat,  who  never  slept  in  the  house 
on  nights  when  there  was  dancing,  came  to  the  door  and 
mewed.  But  no  one  inside  moved  until  the  sun  rolled  up 
from  behind  the  eastern  hills.  Then,  one  by  one,  they 
stole  out  without  a  word  or  even  a  good-bye. 

Outside  the  house  the  departing  guests  beheld  the  signs 
of  the  night's  devastation.  A  huge  pine,  which  had  stood 
close  to  the  gate,  had  been  torn  up  by  the  roots  and  thrown 
down;  branches  and  fence  posts  were  littered  over  the 
ground;  bats  and  owls  had  been  crushed  against  the  side 
walls  of  the  hut. 

Along  the  broad  roadway  leading  to  the  top  of  Mount 
Klack  all  the  trees  had  been  blown  down.  No  one  could 
bear  to  look  at  this  long,  so  they  all  hurried  on  toward 
the  village. 

It  was  Sunday,  and  most  people  were  still  in  their  beds, 
but  a  few  persons  were  already  out  tending  to  their  cattle. 
An  old  man  had  just  emerged  from  his  house  with  his 
Sunday  coat,  to  brush  and  air  it.  From  another  house 
came  father,  mother,  and  children — all  dressed  up  for  a 
holiday  outing.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  see  people  quietly 
going  about  their  business,  unconscious  of  the  awful  things 
that  had  happened  in  the  forest  during  the  night. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  riverside,  where  the  houses  were 
less  scattered,  and  then  to  the  village.  They  were  glad  to 
see  the  old  church  and  everything  else.  It  was  comforting 
to  see  that  everything  down  here  looked  natural:  the  sign- 


146  JERUSALEM 

board  in  front  of  the  shop  creaked  on  its  hinges  as  usual; 
the  post-office  horn  was  in  its  regular  place;  and  the  inn- 
keeper's dog  lay  sleeping,  as  always,  outside  his  kennel.  It 
was  also  a  gladsome  surprise  to  them  to  see  a  little  bird- 
berry  bush  that  had  blossomed  overnight,  and  the  green 
seats  in  the  pastor's  garden,  which  must  have  been  put  out 
late  in  the  evening.  All  this  was  decidedly  reassuring.  But 
just  the  same  no  one  ventured  to  speak  until  they  had 
reached  their  several  homes. 

When  Gertrude  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  schoolhouse, 
she  said  to  Ingmar:  "I  have  danced  my  last  dance,  Ing- 
mar." 

"And  I,  too,"  Ingmar  solemnly  declared. 

"And  you'll  become  a  clergyman,  won't  you,  Ingmar? 
And  if  you  can't  become  a  preacher,  you  must  at  least  be  a 
teacher.  There  is  so  much  evil  in  the  world  one  has  to 
fight  against." 

Ingmar  looked  straight  at  Gertrude.  "What  did  those 
voices  say  to  you  ? "  he  asked. 

"They  said  that  I  had  been  caught  in  the  toils  of  sin,  and 
that  the  devil  would  come  and  take  me,  because  I  was  so 
fond  of  dancing." 

"Now  I  must  tell  you  what  I  heard,"  said  Ingmar.  "It 
seemed  to  me  that  all  the  old  Ingmarssons  were  threatening 
and  cursing  me  because  I  wanted  to  be  something  more 
than  a  peasant,  and  to  do  something  besides  just  tilling  the 
soil  and  working  in  the  forest." 


HELLGUM 


HELLGUM 

THE  night  of  the  dance  at  Strong  Ingmar's, 
Tims  Halvor  was  away  from  home,  and  his  wife, 
Karin,  slept  alone  in  the  little  chamber  off  the 
living-room.  In  the  night  Karin  had  a  frightful  dream. 
She  dreamt  that  Elof  was  alive  and  was  holding  a  big 
revel.  She  could  hear  him  in  the  next  room  clinking 
glasses,  laughing  loudly,  and  singing  ribald  songs.  She 
thought,  in  the  dream,  that  Elof  and  his  boon  companions 
were  getting  noisier  and  noisier,  and  at  last  it  sounded  as 
though  they  were  trying  to  break  up  both  tables  and 
chairs.  Then  Karin  became  so  frightened  that  she  awoke. 
But  even  after  she  had  awakened  the  noise  continued. 
The  earth  shook,  the  windows  rattled,  the  tiles  on  the 
roof  were  loosened,  and  the  old  pear  trees  at  the  gables 
lashed  the  house  with  their  stout  branches.  It  was  as  if 
Judgment  Day  had  come. 

Just  when  the  noise  was  at  its  height  a  window  pane  was 
sprung,  and  the  shattered  glass  fell  jingling  against  the 
floor.  A  violent  gust  of  wind  rushed  through  the  room, 
and  then  Karin  thought  she  heard  a  laugh  quite  close  to 
her  ear — the  same  kind  of  laugh  that  she  had  heard  in  the 
dream.  She  fancied  she  was  about  to  die.  Never  had  she 
felt  such  a  sense  of  terror;  her  heart  stopped,  and  her  whole 
body  became  numb  and  cold  as  ice. 

149 


ISO  JERUSALEM 

All  at  once  the  noise  died  down,  and  Karin,  as  it  were, 
came  back  to  life.  The  raw  night  wind  came  sweeping 
into  the  room;  so  after  a  little  Karin  decided  to  get  up  and 
stuff  something  into  the  broken  window  pane.  As  she 
stepped  out  of  the  bed,  her  legs  gave  way,  and  she  found 
that  she  could  not  walk.  She  did  not  cry  for  help,  but 
quietly  laid  down  again.  "I'll  surely  be  able  to  walk 
when  I  feel  more  composed,"  she. thought.  In  a  few 
moments  she  made  another  attempt.  This  time,  too,  her 
legs  failed  her,  and  she  fell  prone  on  the  floor  beside  the  bed. 

In  the  morning,  when  people  were  astir  in  the  house,  the 
doctor  was  called  in.  He  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  what 
had  come  over  Karin.  She  did  not  appear  to  be  ill,  nor 
was  she  paralyzed.  He  was  of  the  opinion  that  her 
trouble  had  been  brought  on  by  fright. 

"You'll  soon  be  all  right  again,"  he  assured  her. 

Karin  listened  to  the  doctor,  but  said  nothing.  She 
felt  certain  that  Elof  had  been  in  the  room  during  the 
night,  and  that  he  was  the  cause  of  her  trouble.  She 
also  had  the  feeling  that  she  would  never  recover  from  this 
shock. 

All  that  morning  she  sat  up  in  bed,  and  brooded.  She 
tried  to  reason  out  why  God  had  let  this  trial  come  upon 
her.  She  examined  her  conscience  thoroughly,  but  could 
not  discover  that  she  had  committed  any  special  sin  that 
merited  such  a  terrible  punishment.  "God  is  unjust  to 
me,"  she  thought. 

In  the  afternoon  she  was  taken  to  Storm's  mission 
house,  where  at  that  time  a  lay  preacher  named  Dagson 


HELLGUM  151 

led  the  meetings.  She  hoped  that  he  could  tell  her  why 
she  had  been  punished  in  this  way. 

Dagson  was  a  popular  speaker,  and  never  had  he  had  so 
many  hearers  as  on  that  afternoon.  My,  but  what  a 
gathering  of  people  down  at  the  mission  house!  And  no 
one  talked  of  anything  but  what  had  happened  in  the  night 
at  Strong  Ingmar's  hut.  The  whole  community  was  in  a 
state  of  terror,  and  had  turned  out  in  full  force,  in  order  to 
hear  the  Word  of  God  preached  with  a  force  that  would 
annihilate  their  fears.  Hardly  a  quarter  of  the  people  could 
get  inside;  but  windows  and  doors  were  wide  open,  and 
Dagson  had  such  a  powerful  voice  that  he  could  be  heard 
even  by  those  on  the  outside.  Of  course  he  knew  what  had 
occurred,  and  what  the  people  wanted  to  hear.  He 
opened  his  address  with  a  terror-striking  word  picture  of 
hell  and  the  prince  of  darkness.  He  reminded  them  of  the 
evil  one  who  skulks  about  in  the  dark  to  capture  souls,  who 
lays  the  snares  of  sin  and  sets  the  traps  of  vice.  The 
people  shuddered.  They  seemed  to  see  a  world  full  of 
devils,  tempting  and  enticing  them  to  destruction.  Every- 
thing was  a  sin  and  a  danger.  They  were  wandering  among 
pitfalls,  hunted  and  tormented  like  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
forest.  When  Dagson  talked  in  this  strain,  his  voice 
pierced  the  room  like  a  blasting  wind,  and  his  words  were 
like  tongues  of  fire. 

All  who  heard  Dagson's  sermon  likened  it  to  a  roaring 
torrent  of  flame.  With  all  this  talk  about  demons  and 
fire  and  smoke,  they  had  the  same  feeling  as  when  trapped 
in  a  burning  forest — when  the  fire  creeps  along  the  moss 


152  JERUSALEM 

upon  which  you  are  treading,  and  smoke  clouds  fill  the  air 
you  breathe,  and  the  heat  singes  your  hair,  while  the  roar 
of  the  fire  fills  your  ears,  and  flying  sparks  set  fire  to  your 
clothing. 

Thus  did  Dagson  drive  the  people  through  flame  and 
smoke  and  desolation.  They  had  fire  in  front  of  them,  fire 
behind  them,  and  fire  to  left  and  right  of  them,  and  saw 
only  destruction  ahead  of  them.  Yet,  after  taking  them 
through  all  these  horrors,  he  finally  led  them  to  a  green 
spot  in  the  forest,  where  it  was  peaceful  and  cool  and  safe. 
In  the  centre  of  a  flowery  meadow  sat  Jesus,  with  His 
arms  outstretched  toward  the  fleeing  and  hunted  men 
and  women  who  cast  themselves  at  His  feet.  Now  all 
danger  was  past,  and  they  suffered  no  further  distress  nor 
persecution. 

Dagson  spoke  as  he  himself  felt.  If  he  could  only  lay 
himself  down  at  Jesus'  feet,  a  sense  of  great  peace  and 
serenity  would  come  to  him,  and  he  had  no  more  fear  of  the 
snares  of  the  world. 

After  the  service  there  was  great  emotional  excitement. 
Many  persons  rushed  up  to  the  speaker  and  thanked  him, 
with  tears  streaming  down  their  faces.  They  told  him 
that  his  words  had  awakened  them  to  a  true  faith  in  God. 
But  all  this  time  Karin  sat  unmoved.  When  Dagson 
had  finished  speaking,  she  raised  her  heavy  eyelids  and 
looked  up  at  him,  as  if  reproaching  him  for  not  having 
given  her  anything.  Just  then  some  one  outside  cried 
in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  entire  congre- 
gation: 


HELLGUM  153 

"Woe,  woe,  woe  to  those  who  give  stones  for  bread! 
Woe,  woe,  woe  to  those  who  give  stones  for  bread ! " 

Whereupon  everybody  rushed  out,  curious  to  see  who  it 
was  that  had  spoken  those  words,  and  Karin  was  left 
sitting  there  in  her  helplessness.  Presently  members  of 
her  own  household  came  back,  and  told  her  that  the  person 
who  had  cried  out  like  that  was  a  tall,  dark  stranger.  He 
and  a  pretty,  fair-haired  woman  had  been  seen  coming 
down  the  road,  in  a  cart,  during  the  service.  They  had 
stopped  to  listen,  and  just  as  they  were  about  to  drive  on, 
the  man  had  risen  up  and  spoken.  Some  folks  thought 
they  knew  the  woman.  They  said  she  was  one  of  Strong 
Ingmar's  daughters — one  of  those  who  had  gone  to  America 
and  married  there.  The  man  was  evidently  her  husband. 
Of  course  it  is  not  so  easy  to  recognize  a  person  whom  one 
has  known  as  a  young  girl  in  the  ordinary  peasant  costume, 
when  she  comes  back  a  grown  woman  dressed  up  in  city 
clothes. 

Karin  and  the  stranger  were  evidently  of  the  same 
mind  regarding  Dagson.  Karin  never  went  to  the  mission 
house  again.  But  later  in  the  summer,  when  a  Baptist 
layman  came  to  the  parish,  baptizing  and  exhorting,  she 
went  to  hear  him,  and  when  the  Salvation  Army  began  to 
hold  meetings  in  the  village,  she  also  attended  one  of 
these. 

The  parish  was  in  the  throes  of  a  great  religious  up- 
heaval. At  all  the  meetings  there  were  awakenings  and 
conversions.  The  people  seemed  to  find  what  they 
had  been  seeking.  Yet  among  all  those  whom  Karin 


i54  JERUSALEM 

had  heard  preach,  not  one  could  give  her  any  consola- 


tion. 


A  blacksmith  named  Birger  Larsson  had  a  smithy  close 
by  the  highroad.  His  shop  was  small  and  dark,  with  a  low 
door,  and  an  aperture  in  place  of  a  window.  Birger  Lars- 
son  made  common  knives,  mended  locks,  put  tires  on 
wheels  and  on  sled  runners.  When  there  was  nothing  else 
to  be  done,  he  forged  nails. 

One  evening,  in  the  summer,  there  was  a  rush  of  work 
at  the  smithy.  At  one  anvil  stood  Birger  Larsson  flatten- 
ing the  heads  of  nails;  his  eldest  son  was  at  another  anvil 
forging  iron  rods  and  cutting  off  pins.  A  second  son  was 
blowing  the  bellows,  a  third  carried  coal  to  the  forge, 
turned  the  iron,  and,  when  at  white  heat,  brought  it  to  the 
smiths.  The  fourth  son,  who  was  not  more  than  seven 
years  old,  gathered  up  the  finished  nails  and  threw  them 
into  a  trough  filled  with  water,  afterward  bunching  and 
tying  them. 

While  they  were  all  hard  at  work  a  stranger  came  up  and 
stationed  himself  in  the  doorway.  He  was  a  tall,  swarthy- 
looking  man,  and  he  had  to  bend  almost  double  to  look 
in.  Birger  Larsson  glanced  up  from  his  work  to  see  what 
the  man  wanted. 

"I  hope  you  don't  mind  my  looking  in,  although  I  have 
no  special  errand  here,"  said  the  stranger.  "  I  was  a  black- 
smith myself  in  my  younger  days,  and  can  never  pass  by  a 
smithy  without  first  stopping  to  glance  in  at  the  work." 


HELLGUM  155 

Birger  Larsson  noticed  that  the  man  had  large,  sinewy 
hands — regular  blacksmith's  hands.  He  at  once  began  to 
question  him  as  to  who  he  was  and  whence  he  came.  The 
man  answered  pleasantly,  but  without  disclosing  his  iden- 
tity. Birger  thought  him  clever  and  likable,  and  after 
showing  him  around  the  shop,  he  went  outside  with  him 
and  began  to  brag  about  his  sons.  He  had  seen  hard 
times,  he  said,  before  the  boys  were  big  enough  to  help 
with  the  work;  but  now  that  all  of  them  were  able  to  lend 
a  hand,  everything  went  well.  "In  a  few  years  I  expect 
to  be  a  rich  man,"  he  declared. 

The  stranger  smiled  a  little  at  that  and  said  he  was 
pleased  to  hear  that  Birger's  sons  were  so  helpful  to  him. 
Placing  his  heavy  hand  on  Birger's  shoulder,  and  looking 
him  square  in  the  eyes,  he  said :  "Since  you  have  had  such 
good  aid  from  your  sons  in  a  material  way,  I  suppose  you 
also  let  them  help  you  in  the  things  that  pertain  to  the 
spirit?"  Birger  stared  stupidly.  "I  see  that  this  is  a  new 
thought  to  you,"  the  stranger  added.  "Ponder  it  till  we 
meet  again."  Then  he  went  on  his  way  smiling,  and 
Birger  Larsson,  scratching  his  head,  returned  to  his  work. 
But  the  stranger's  query  haunted  his  mind  for  several 
days.  "I  wonder  what  made  him  say  that?"  he  mused. 
''There  must  be  something  back  of  it  all  that  I  don't  un- 
derstand." 


The  day  after  the  stranger  had  talked  with  Birger  Lars- 
son  an  extraordinary  thing  took  place  at  Tims  Halvor's 


156  JERUSALEM 

old  shop,  which  since  his  marriage  to  Karin  had  been 
turned  over  to  his  brother-in-law,  Bullet  Gunner.  Gunner 
was  away  at  the  time,  and,  in  his  absence,  Brita  Ing- 
marsson  tended  the  shop.  Brita  was  named  after  her 
mother,  Big  Ingmar's  handsome  wife,  whose  good  looks 
she  had  inherited.  Moreover,  she  had  the  distinction  of 
being  the  prettiest  girl  ever  born  and  reared  on  the  Ingmar 
Farm.  Although  she  bore  no  outward  resemblance  to  the 
old  Ingmars,  she  was,  nevertheless,  quite  as  conscientious 
and  upright  as  any  of  them. 

When  Gunner  was  absent  Brita  always  ran  the  business 
in  her  own  way.  Whenever  old  Corporal  Felt  would  come 
stumbling  in,  tipsy  and  shaky,  and  ask  for  a  bottle  of  beer, 
Brita  would  give  him  a  blunt  "No,"  and  when  poor  Kol- 
bjorn's  Lena  came  and  wanted  to  buy  a  fine  brooch,  Brita 
sent  her  home  with  several  pounds  of  rye  meal.  The 
peasant  woman  who  dropped  in  to  buy  some  light  flimsy 
fabric  was  told  to  go  home  and  weave  suitable  and  durable 
cloth  on  her  own  loom.  And  no  children  dared  come  into 
the  shop  to  spend  their  poor  coppers  for  candy  and  raisins 
when  Brita  was  in  charge  there. 

That  day  Brita  had  not  many  customers.  So  for  hours 
and  hours  she  sat  quite  alone,  staring  into  vacancy,  de- 
spair burning  in  her  eyes.  By  and  by  she  got  up  and  took 
out  a  rope;  then  she  moved  a  little  stepladder  from  the 
shop  into  the  back  room.  After  that  she  made  a  loop  in 
one  end  of  the  rope,  and  fastened  the  other  end  to  a  hook  in 
the  ceiling.  Just  as  she  was  about  to  slip  her  head  into 
the  noose,  she  happened  to  look  down. 


HELLGUM  157 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened  and  in  walked  a  tall, 
dark  man.  He  had  evidently  entered  the  shop  without 
her  having  heard  him,  and  on  finding  no  one  in  attendance, 
had  stepped  behind  the  counter  and  opened  the  door  to 
the  next  room. 

Brita  quietly  came  down  from  the  ladder.  The  man 
did  not  speak,  but  withdrew  into  the  shop,  Brita  slowly 
following  him.  She  had  never  seen  the  man  before.  She 
noticed  that  he  had  black  curly  hair,  throat  whiskers, 
keen  eyes,  and  big,  sinewy  hands.  He  was  well  dressed, 
but  his  bearing  was  that  of  a  labourer.  After  seating  him- 
self on  a  rickety  chair  near  the  door,  he  began  to  stare  hard 
at  Brita. 

By  that  time  Brita  was  again  standing  behind  the 
counter.  She  did  not  ask  him  what  he  wanted;  she  only 
wished  he  would  go  away.  The  man  just  stared  and 
stared,  never  once  taking  his  eyes  off  her.  Brita  felt  that 
she  was  being  held  by  his  gaze,  and  could  not  move.  Pres- 
ently she  grew  impatient,  and  said,  in  her  mind:  "What's 
the  use  of  your  sitting  there  watching  me  ?  Can't  you  un- 
derstand that  I'm  going  to  do  what  I  want  to  do,  anyhow, 
as  soon  as  I'm  left  alone?  If  this  were  only  something 
that  could  be  helped,"  Brita  argued  mentally,  "I  wouldn't 
mind  your  hindering  me,  but  it  can't  be  remedied  now." 

All  the  while  the  man  sat  gazing  intently  at  her. 

"Let  me  say  to  you  that  we  Ingmars  are  not  fitted  to  be 
shopkeepers,"  Brita  continued  in  her  thoughts.  "You 
don't  know  how  happy  we  were,  Gunner  and  I,  till  he 
took  up  with  this  business.  Folks  certainly  warned  me 


158  JERUSALEM 

against  marrying  him;  they  didn't  like  him,  on  account  of 
his  black  hair,  his  piercing  eyes,  and  his  sharp  tongue. 
But  we  two  were  fond  of  each  other,  you  see,  and  there  was 
never  a  cross  word  between  us  till  Gunner  took  over  the 
shop.  But  since  then  all  has  not  been  well.  I  want  him 
to  conduct  the  business  in  my  way.  I  can't  abide  his 
selling  wine  and  beer  to  drunkards,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
he  ought  to  encourage  people  in  buying  only  such  things 
as  are  useful  and  necessary;  but  Gunner  thinks  this  a  ridic- 
ulous notion.  Neither  of  us  will  give  in  to  the  other,  so 
we  are  forever  wrangling,  and  now  he  doesn't  care  for  me 
any  more." 

She  gave  the  man  a  savage  look,  amazed  at  his  not 
yielding  to  her  mute  entreaties. 

"Surely  you  must  understand  that  I  cannot  go  on  liv- 
ing under  the  shame  of  knowing  that  he  lets  the  bailiff 
serve  executions  upon  poor  people  and  take  from  them  their 
only  cow  or  a  couple  of  sheep!  Can't  you  see  that  this 
thing  will  never  come  right?  Why  don't  you  go,  and  let 
me  put  an  end  to  it  all!" 

Brita,  under  the  man's  gaze,  gradually  became  quieter 
in  her  mind,  and  in  a  little  while  she  began  to  cry  softly. 
She  was  touched  by  his  sitting  there  and  protecting  her 
against  herself. 

As  soon  as  the  man  saw  that  Brita  was  weeping,  he  rose 
and  went  toward  the  door.  When  he  was  on  the  doorstep, 
he  turned  and  again  looked  straight  into  her  eyes,  and  said 
in  a  deep  voice:  "Do  thyself  no  harm,  for  the  time  is  near- 
ing  when  thou  shalt  live  in  righteousness." 


HELLGUM  159 

Then  he  went  his  way.  She  could  hear  his  heavy  foot- 
steps as  he  walked  down  the  road.  Brita  ran  into  the 
little  room,  took  down  the  rope,  and  carried  the  stepladder 
back  into  the  shop.  Then  she  dropped  down  on  a  box, 
where  she  sat  quietly  musing  for  two  full  hours.  She 
felt,  somehow,  that  for  a  long  time  she  had  wandered  in  a 
darkness  so  thick  that  she  could  not  see  her  hand  before 
her.  She  had  lost  her  way  and  knew  not  whither  she  had 
strayed,  and  with  every  step  she  had  been  afraid  of  sinking 
into  a  quagmire  or  stumbling  headlong  into  an  abyss. 
Now  some  one  had  called  to  her  not  to  go  any  farther,  but 
to  sit  down  and  wait  for  the  break  of  day.  She  was  glad 
that  she  would  not  have  to  continue  her  perilous  wander- 
ings; now  she  sat  quietly  waiting  for  the  dawn. 


Strong  Ingmar  had  a  daughter  who  was  called  Anna 
Lisa.  She  had  lived  in  Chicago  for  a  number  of  years,  and 
had  married  there  a  Swede  named  John  Hellgum,  who  was 
the  leader  of  a  little  band  of  religionists  with  a  faith  and 
doctrine  of  their  own.  The  day  after  the  memorable 
dance  night  at  Strong  Ingmar's,  Anna  Lisa  and  her  hus- 
band had  come  home  to  pay  a  visit  to  her  old  father. 

Hellgum  passed  his  time  taking  long  walks  about  the 
parish.  He  struck  up  an  acquaintance  with  all  whom  he 
met  on  the  way.  He  talked  with  them  at  first  of  com- 
monplace things;  but  just  before  parting  with  a  person,  he 
would  always  place  his  large  hand  upon  his  or  her  shoulder, 
and  speak  a  few  words  of  comfort  or  warning. 


160  JERUSALEM 

Strong  Ingmar  saw  very  little  of  his  son-in-law,  for  that 
summer  the  old  man  and  young  Ingmar,  who  had  now  gone 
back  to  the  Ingmar  Farm  to  live,  were  hard  at  work  day- 
times putting  up  a  sawmill  below  the  rapids.  It  was  a 
proud  day  for  Strong  Ingmar  when  the  sawmill  was  ready 
and  the  first  log  had  been  turned  into  white  planks  by  the 
buzzing  saws. 

One  evening  on  his  way  home  from  work,  the  old  man 
met  Anna  Lisa  on  the  road.  She  looked  frightened,  and 
wanted  to  run  away.  Strong  Ingmar,  seeing  this,  quick- 
ened his  pace,  thinking  all  was  not  well  at  home.  When 
he  reached  his  hut  he  stopped  short,  frowning.  As  far 
back  as  he  could  remember,  a  certain  rosebush  had  been 
growing  outside  the  door.  It  had  been  the  apple  of  his 
eye.  He  had  never  allowed  any  one  to  pluck  a  rose  or  a 
leaf  from  that  bush.  Strong  Ingmar  had  always  guarded 
the  bush  very  tenderly,  because  he  believed  it  sheltered 
elves  and  fairies.  But  now  it  had  been  cut  down.  Of 
course  it  was  his  son-in-law,  the  preacher,  who  had  done 
this,  as  the  sight  of  the  bush  had  always  been  an  eyesore 
to  him. 

Strong  Ingmar  had  his  axe  with  him,  and  his  grip  on  the 
handle  tightened  as  he  entered  the  hut.  Inside  sat  Hell- 
gum  with  an  open  Bible  before  him.  He  raised  his  eyes 
and  gave  the  old  man  a  piercing  look,  then  went  on  with 
his  reading;  this  time  aloud: 

"  Even  as  ye  think,  we  will  be  as  the  heathen,  as  the  families 
of  the  countries,  to  serve  wood  and  stone,  it  shall  not  be  at  all 


HELLGUM  161 

as  ye  think.  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  surely  with  a 
mighty  hand,  and  with  stretched-out  arm,  and  with  fury 
poured  out,  will  I  rule  over  you " 

Without  a  word  Strong  Ingmar  turned  and  walked  out 
of  the  house.  That  night  he  slept  in  the  barn.  The 
following  day  he  and  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  set  out  for  the 
forest  to  burn  charcoal  and  fell  timber.  They  were  to  be 
gone  the  whole  winter. 

On  two  or  three  occasions  Hellgum  had  spoken  at 
prayer  meetings  and  outlined  his  teaching,  which  he 
maintained  was  the  only  true  Christianity.  But  Hellgum, 
who  was  not  as  eloquent  a  speaker  as  Dagson,  had  made  no 
converts.  Those  who  had  met  him  outside  and  had  only 
heard  him  say  a  few  telling  words,  expected  great  things 
from  him;  but  when  he  tried  to  deliver  a  lengthy  address  he 
became  heavy,  prosy,  and  tiresome. 


Toward  the  close  of  summer  Karin  became  utterly 
despondent  over  her  condition.  She  rarely  spoke.  All 
day  long  she  sat  motionless  in  her  chair.  She  went  to  hear 
no  more  preachers,  but  stayed  at  home,  brooding  over  her 
misfortune.  Once  in  a  while  she  would  repeat  to  Halvor 
her  father's  old  saying  about  the  Ingmars  not  having  any- 
thing to  fear  so  long  as  they  walked  in  the  ways  of  God. 
Now  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  no 
truth  even  in  that. 

Halvor,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  on  one  occasion  sug- 


1 62  JERUSALEM 

gested  that  she  talk  with  the  newest  preacher,  but  Karin 
declared  that  she  would  never  again  look  to  a  parson  for  help. 

One  Sunday,  toward  the  end  of  August,  Karin  sat  at  the 
window  in  the  living-room.  A  Sabbath  stillness  rested 
over  the  farm,  and  she  could  hardly  keep  awake.  Her 
head  kept  sinking  nearer  and  nearer  her  breast,  and 
presently  she  dropped  into  a  doze. 

She  was  suddenly  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  voice  just 
outside  her  window.  She  could  not  see  who  the  speaker 
was,  but  the  voice  was  strong  and  deep.  A  more  beautiful 
voice  she  had  never  heard. 

"I  know,  Halvor,  that  it  doesn't  seem  reasonable  to  you 
that  a  poor,  uneducated  blacksmith  should  have  found  the 
truth,  when  so  many  learned  men  have  failed,"  said  the 


voice. 
« 


I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so  sure  of  that,"  Halvor 
questioned. 

"It's  Hellgum  talking  to  Halvor,"  thought  Karin,  trying 
to  close  the  window,  which  she  was  unable  to  reach. 

"It  has  been  said,  as  you  know,"  Hellgum  went  on, 
"that  if  somebody  strikes  us  on  one  cheek  we  must  turn 
the  other  cheek  also,  and  that  we  should  not  resist  evil,  and 
other  things  of  the  same  sort;  all  of  which  none  of  us  can 
live  up  to.  Why,  people  would  rob  you  of  your  house  and 
home,  they'd  steal  your  potatoes  and  carry  off  your  grain, 
if  you  failed  to  protect  what  was  yours.  I  guess  they'd 
take  the  whole  Ingmar  Farm  from  you." 

"Maybe  you're  right,"  Halvor  admitted. 

"Well,  then,  I  suppose  Christ  didn't  mean  anything 


HELLGUM  163 

when  He  said  all  that;  He  was  just  talking  into  the  air, 
eh?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  driving  at!"  said  Halvor. 

"Now  here's  something  to  set  you  thinking,"  Hellgum 
continued.  "We  are  supposed  to  be  very  far  advanced  in 
our  Christianity.  There's  no  one  nowadays  who  steals,  no 
one  who  commits  murder  or  wrongs  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless,  and  of  course  no  one  hates  or  persecutes  his 
neighbour  any  more,  and  it  wouldn't  occur  to  any  of  us, 
who  have  such  a  good  religion,  to  do  any  wrong!" 

"There  are  many  things  that  aren't  just  as  they  ought  to 
be,"  drawled  Halvor.  He  sounded  sleepy,  and  anything 
but  interested. 

"Now  if  you  had  a  threshing  machine  that  wouldn't 
work,  you'd  find  out  what  was  wrong  with  it.  You 
wouldn't  give  yourself  any  rest  till  you  had  discovered 
wherein  it  was  faulty.  But  when  you  see  that  it  is  simply 
impossible  to  get  people  to  lead  a  Christian  life,  shouldn't 
you  try  to  find  out  whether  there  is  anything  the  matter 
with  Christianity  itself? " 

"I  can't  believe  there  are  any  flaws  in  the  teachings  of 
Jesus,"  said  Halvor. 

"No,  they  were  unquestionably  sound  from  the  start; 
but  it  may  be  that  they  have  become  a  little  rusty,  as  it 
were,  from  neglect.  In  any  perfect  mechanism,  if  a  cog 
happens  to  slip — only  one  tiny  little  cog — instantly  the 
whole  machinery  stops!" 

He  paused  a  moment  as  if  searching  for  words  and 
proofs. 


164  JERUSALEM 

"Now  let  me  tell  you  what  happened  to  me  a  few  years 
ago,"  he  resumed.  "I  then  tried  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life  to  really  live  by  the  teachings.  Do  you  know  what  the 
result  was?  I  was  at  that  time  working  in  a  factory. 
When  my  fellow-workmen  found  out  what  manner  of  man 
I  was,  they  let  me  do  a  good  share  of  their  work  in  ad- 
dition to  my  own.  In  thanks  they  took  the  job  away  from 
me  by  conniving  to  throw  the  blame  on  me  for  a  theft 
committed  by  one  of  them.  I  was  arrested,  of  course,  and 
sent  to  the  penitentiary." 

"One  doesn't  ordinarily  run  across  such  bad  people," 
returned  Halvor  indifferently. 

"Then  said  I  to  myself:  It  wouldn't  be  very  hard  to  be 
a  Christian  if  one  were  only  alone  on  this  earth,  and  there 
were  no  fellow-humans  to  be  reckoned  with.  I  must  con- 
fess that  I  really  enjoyed  being  in  prison,  for  there  I  was 
allowed  to  lead  a  righteous  life,  undisturbed  and  un- 
molested. But  after  a  time  I  began  to  think  that  this 
trying  to  be  good  in  solitude  was  about  as  effective  as  the 
automatic  turning  of  a  mill  when  there's  no  corn  in  the 
grinder.  Inasmuch  as  God  had  seen  fit  to  place  so  many 
people  in  the  world,"  I  reasoned,  "it  must  have  been 
done  with  the  idea  that  they  should  be  a  help  and  a 
comfort  to  one  another,  and  not  a  menace.  It  occurred 
to  me,  finally,  that  Satan  must  have  taken  something 
away  from  the  Bible,  so  that  Christianity  should  go  to 
smash." 

"But  surely  he  never  had  the  power  to  do  that,"  said 
Halvor. 


HELLGUM  165 

"Yes;  he  has  taken  out  this  precept:  Ye  who  would  lead 
a  Christian  life  must  seek  help  among  your  fellow  men." 

Halvor  did  not  venture  a  reply,  but  Karin  nodded 
approvingly.  She  had  listened  very  carefully,  and  had  not 
missed  a  word. 

"As  soon  as  I  was  released  from  prison,"  Hellgum  con- 
tinued, "I  went  to  see  an  old  friend,  and  asked  him  to  help 
me  lead  a  righteous  life.  And,  mind,  when  we  were  two 
about  it,  at  once  it  became  easier.  Soon  a  third  party  joined 
with  us,  then  a  fourth,  and  it  became  easier  and  easier. 
Now  there  are  thirty  of  us  who  live  together  in  a  house  in 
Chicago.  All  our  interests  are  common  interests;  we 
share  and  share  alike.  We  watch  over  each  other's  lives, 
and  the  way  of  righteousness  lies  before  us,  smooth  and 
even.  We  are  able  to  deal  with  one  another  in  a  Christly 
manner,  for  one  brother  does  not  abuse  the  kindness  of 
another,  nor  trample  him  down  in  his  humility." 

As  Halvor  remained  silent,  Hellgum  spoke  on  con- 
vincingly: "You  know,  of  course,  that  he  who  wishes  to  do 
something  big  always  allies  himself  with  others  who  help 
him.  Now  you  couldn't  run  this  farm  by  yourself.  If 
you  wanted  to  start  a  factory,  you'd  have  to  organize  a 
company  to  cooperate  with  you,  and  if  you  wanted  to 
build  a  railway,  just  think  how  many  helpers  you'd  have  to 
take  on! 

"But  the  most  difficult  work  in  the  world  is  to  live  a 
Christian  life;  yet  that  you  would  accomplish  single- 
handed  and  without  the  support  of  others.  Or  maybe  you 
don't  even  try  to  do  so,  since  you  know  beforehand  that  it 


i66  JERUSALEM 

can't  be  done.  But  we — I  and  those  who  have  joined  me 
back  there  in  Chicago — have  found  a  way.  Our  little 
community  is  in  truth  the  New  Jerusalem  come  down  from 
Heaven.  You  may  know  it  by  these  signs :  the  gifts  of  the 
Spirit  which  descended  upon  the  early  Christians,  have 
also  fallen  upon  us.  There  are  some  among  us  who  hear 
the  Voice  of  God,  others  who  prophesy,  and  others,  again, 
who  heal  the  sick " 

"Can  you  heal  the  sick?"  Halvor  broke  in  eagerly. 

"Yes,"  answered  Hellgum.  "I  can  heal  those  who  have 
faith  in  me." 

"It's  rather  hard  to  believe  something  different  from 
what  one  was  taught  as  a  child,"  said  Halvor  thoughtfully. 

"Nevertheless,  I  feel  certain,  Halvor,  that  very  soon  you 
will  give  your  full  support  to  the  upbuilding  of  the  New 
Jerusalem,"  Hellgum  declared. 

Then  came  a  moment  of  silence,  after  which  Karin  heard 
Hellgum  say  good-bye. 

Presently  Halvor  went  into  the  house.  On  seeing  Karin 
seated  by  the  open  window,  he  remarked:  "You  must  have 
heard  all  that  Hellgum  said." 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"Did  you  hear  him  say  that  he  could  heal  any  one  who 
had  faith  in  him?" 

Karin  reddened  a  little.  She  had  liked  what  Hellgum 
said  better  than  anything  she  had  heard  that  summer. 
There  was  something  sound  and  practical  about  his  teach- 
ing which  appealed  to  her  common  sense.  Here  were 
works  and  service  and  no  mere  emotionalism,  which  meant 


HELLGUM  167 

nothing  to  her.  However,  she  would  not  admit  this,  for 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  have  no  further  dealings  with 
preachers.  So  she  said  to  Halvor:  "My  father's  faith  is 
good  enough  for  me." 


A  fortnight  later  Karin  was  again  seated  in  the  living- 
room.  Autumn  had  just  set  in;  the  wind  howled  round 
the  house  and  a  fire  crackled  on  the  hearth.  There  was 
nobody  in  the  room  but  herself  and  her  baby  daughter,  who 
was  almost  a  year  old  and  had  just  learned  to  walk.  The 
child  was  sitting  on  the  floor  at  her  mother's  feet,  playing. 

As  Karin  sat  watching  the  child,  the  door  opened,  and  in 
came  a  tall,  dark  man,  with  keen  eyes  and  large  sinewy 
hands.  Before  Karin  had  heard  him  say  a  word,  she 
guessed  that  it  was  Hellgum. 

After  passing  the  time  of  day,  the  man  asked  after 
Halvor.  He  learned  that  Karin's  husband  had  gone  to  a 
town  meeting,  and  was  expected  home  shortly.  Hellgum 
sat  down.  Now  and  then  he  glanced  over  at  Karin,  and 
after  a  little  he  said : 

"I've  been  told  that  you  are  ill." 

"I  have  not  been  able  to  walk  for  the  past  six  months,'' 
Karin  replied. 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  coming  here  to  pray  for  you," 
volunteered  the  preacher. 

Karin  closed  her  eyes  and  retired  within  herself. 

"You  have  perhaps  heard  that  by  the  Grace  of  God  I 
am  able  to  heal  the  sick?" 


i68  JERUSALEM 

The  woman  opened  her  eyes  and  sent  him  a  look  of  dis- 
trust. "  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  thinking  of  me,"  she 
said,  "but  it  isn't  likely  that  you  can  help  me,  as  I'm  not 
the  kind  that  changes  faith  easily." 

"Possibly  God  will  help  you,  anyhow,  since  you  have 
always  tried  to  live  an  upright  life." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  stand  well  enough  in  the  sight  of  God 
to  expect  help  from  Him  in  this  matter." 

In  a  little  while  Hellgum  asked  her  if  she  had  looked 
within  to  get  at  the  cause  of  this  affliction.  "Has  Mother 
Karin  ever  asked  herself  why  this  affliction  has  been  vis- 
ited upon  her?" 

Karin  made  no  reply;  again  she  seemed  to  retire  within 
herself. 

"Something  tells  me  that  God  has  done  this  that  His 
Name  might  be  glorified,"  said  Hellgum. 

At  that  Karin  grew  angry  and  two  bright  red  spots  ap- 
peared in  her  cheeks.  She  thought  it  very  presumptuous 
in  Hellgum  to  think  this  illness  had  come  upon  her  simply 
to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  perform  a  miracle. 

Presently  the  preacher  got  up  and  went  over  to  Karin. 
Placing  his  heavy  hand  on  her  head,  he  asked:  "Do  you 
want  me  to  pray  for  you  ? " 

Karin  immediately  felt  a  current  of  life  and  health  shoot 
through  her  body,  but  she  was  so  offended  at  the  man  for 
his  obtrusiveness  that  she  pushed  away  his  hand  and 
raised  her  own  as  if  to  strike  him.  Her  indignation  was 
beyond  words. 

Hellgum    withdrew   toward    the   door.     "One    should 


HELLGUM  169 

not  reject  the  help  which  God  sends,  but  accept  it 
thankfully." 

"That's  true,"  Karin  returned.  "Whatever  God  sends 
one  is  obliged  to  accept." 

"Mark  well  what  I  say  to  you!  This  day  shall  salva- 
tion come  unto  this  house,"  the  man  proclaimed. 

Karin  did  not  answer. 

"Think  of  me  when  you  receive  the  help ! "  he  said.  The 
next  instant  he  was  gone. 

Karin  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  chair,  the  red  spots  still 
burning  in  her  cheeks.  "Am  I  to  have  no  peace  even  in 
my  own  house?"  she  muttered.  "It's  singular  how  many 
there  are  nowadays  who  think  themselves  sent  of  God." 

Suddenly  Karin's  little  girl  got  up  and  toddled  toward 
the  fireplace.  The  bright  blaze  had  attracted  the  child, 
who,  shrieking  with  delight,  was  making  for  it  as  fast  as 
her  tiny  feet  could  carry  her. 

Karin  called  to  her  to  come  back,  but  the  child  paid  no 
heed  to  her;  at  that  moment  she  was  trying  to  clamber  up 
into  the  fireplace.  After  tumbling  down  a  couple  of  times, 
she  finally  managed  to  get  upon  the  hearth,  where  the  fire 
blazed. 

"God  help  me!  God  help  me!"  cried  Karin.  Then 
she  began  to  shout  for  help,  although  she  knew  there  was 
no  one  near. 

The  little  girl  bent  laughingly  over  the  fire.  Suddenly 
a  burning  ember  rolled  out  and  fell  on  her  little  yellow 
frock.  Instantly  Karin  sprang  to  her  feet,  rushed  over 
to  the  fireplace,  and  snatched  the  child  in  her  arms.  Not 


170  JERUSALEM 

until  she  had  brushed  away  all  the  sparks  from  the  child's 
dress,  and  had  made  sure  that  her  baby  was  unharmed,  did 
she  realize  what  had  happened  to  herself.  She  was  actu- 
ally on  her  feet;  she  had  been  walking  again,  and  would 
always  be  able  to  walk! 

Karin  experienced  the  greatest  mental  shake-up  she  had 
ever  felt  in  her  life,  and  at  the  same  time  the  greatest  sense 
of  happiness.  She  had  the  feeling  that  she  was  under 
God's  special  care  and  protection,  and  that  God  Himself 
had  sent  a  holy  man  to  her  house  to  strengthen  her  and  to 
heal  her. 


That  autumn  Hellgum  often  stood  on  the  little  porch 
of  Strong  Ingmar's  cottage,  looking  out  across  the  land- 
scape. The  country  round  about  was  growing  more  beau- 
tiful every  day:  the  ground  was  now  a  golden  brown,  and 
all  the  leafy  trees  had  turned  either  a  bright  red  or  a 
bright  yellow.  Here  and  there  loomed  stretches  of  wood- 
land that  shimmered  in  the  breeze  like  a  billowy  sea  of 
gold.  Against  the  shadowy  background  of  the  fir-clad 
hills  could  be  seen  splashes  of  yellow;  they  were  the  leaf 
trees  that  had  strayed  in  among  the  pines  and  spruces  and 
taken  root  there. 

As  an  humble  gray  hut,  when  ablaze,  gives  out  light  and 
brilliancy,  thus  did  this  humble  Swedish  landscape  flame 
into  a  marvel  of  splendour.  Everything  was  so  won- 
drously  golden,  exactly  as  one  might  imagine  that  a  land- 
scape on  the  surface  of  the  sun  would  look. 


HELLGUM  171 

Hellgum  was  thinking,  as  he  viewed  this  scene,  that  a 
time  was  coming  when  God  would  let  the  land  reflect  the 
brightness  of  His  Glory,  and  when  the  seeds  of  Truth  which 
had  been  sown  during  the  summer  would  yield  golden  har- 
vests of  righteousness. 

Then,  lo  and  behold,  one  evening  Tims  Halvor  came 
over  to  the  croft  and  invited  Hellgum  and  his  wife  to  come 
with  him  to  the  Ingmar  Farm! 

On  arriving  they  found  everything  in  holiday  order; 
around  the  house  all  the  old  dry  birch  leaves  had  been 
cleared  away;  farm  implements  and  carts,  which  at  other 
times  were  scattered  about  the  yard,  had  now  been  put  out 
of  sight. 

"They  must  be  having  a  number  of  visitors  here," 
thought  Anna  Lisa.  Just  then  Halvor  opened  the  front 
door,  and  they  stepped  inside. 

The  living-room  was  full  of  people  who  were  seated  upon 
benches  all  along  the  walls,  solemnly  expectant.  Hellgum 
noticed  that  they  were  the  leading  people  of  the  parish. 
The  first  persons  he  recognized  were  Ljung  Bjorn  Olofs- 
son  and  his  wife,  Martha  Ingmarsson;  also  Bullet  Gunner 
and  his  wife.  Then  he  saw  Krister  Larsson  and  Israel 
Tomasson  with  their  wives,  all  of  whom  were  members  of 
the  Ingmar  family.  Presently  he  saw  Hok  Matts  Ericsson 
and  his  son  Gabriel,  the  councillor's  daughter  Gunhild, 
and  several  persons  besides.  Altogether  there  were  about 
twenty  people  present. 

When  Hellgum  and  Anna  Lisa  had  gone  round  and 
shaken  hands  with  every  one,  Tims  Halvor  said : 


172  JERUSALEM 

"We  who  are  assembled  here  have  been  thinking  over 
the  things  Hellgum  has  said  to  us  during  the  summer. 
Most  of  us  belong  to  an  old  family  whose  wish  it  has  ever 
been  to  walk  in  the  ways  of  God.  If  Hellgum  can  help  us 
do  this,  we  are  ready  to  follow  him." 

The  next  day  the  news  spread  like  wildfire  throughout 
the  parish  that  a  new  religious  sect  had  sprung  up  on  the 
Ingmar  Farm,  which  was  supposed  to  embody  the  only 
correct  and  true  principles  of  Christianity. 


THE  NEW  WAY 


THE  NEW  WAY 

IN  THE  spring,  soon  after  the  snow  had  disappeared, 
young  Ingmar  and  Strong  Ingmar  returned  to  the 
village  to  start  the  sawmill.  They  had  been  up  in  the 
forest  the  whole  winter  cutting  timber  and  making  char- 
coal. And  when  Ingmar  got  back  to  the  lowlands  he  felt 
like  a  bear  that  had  just  crawled  out  from  its  lair.  He 
could  hardly  accustom  himself  to  the  glaring  sunlight  of  an 
open  sky,  and  blinked  as  if  the  light  hurt  him.  The  roar- 
ing of  the  rapids  and  the  sound  of  human  voices  seemed 
almost  intolerable  to  him,  and  all  the  noises  on  the  farm 
were  a  veritable  torture  to  his  ears.  At  the  same  time  he 
was  glad;  heaven  knows  he  did  not  show  it,  either  in  speech 
or  manner,  but  that  spring  he  felt  as  young  as  the  fresh 
shoots  on  the  birches. 

Oh,  but  it  seemed  good  to  him  to  sleep  once  more  in  a 
comfortable  bed,  and  to  eat  properly  cooked  food!  And 
then  to  be  at  home  with  Karin,  who  looked  after  his  com- 
fort as  tenderly  as  a  mother!  She  had  ordered  new 
clothes  for  him;  and  she  had  a  way  of  coming  in  from  the 
kitchen  and  handing  him  some  dainty  or  other,  as  if  he 
were  still  a  little  boy.  And  what  wonderful  things  had 
happened  at  home  while  he  was  up  in  the  forest!  Ingmar 
had  heard  only  a  few  vague  rumours  about  Hellgum's 
teachings;  but  now  Karin  and  Halvor  told  him  of  the  great 


176  JERUSALEM 

happiness  that  had  come  to  them,  and  of  how  they  and 
their  friends  were  trying  to  help  one  another  to  walk  in  the 
ways  of  God. 

"We  are  sure  you  will  want  to  join  us,"  said  Karin. 

Ingmar  replied  that  maybe  he  would,  but  that  he  must 
think  it  over  first. 

"All  winter  I  longed  for  you  to  come  home  and  share 
our  bliss,"  the  sister  went  on,  "for  now  we  no  longer  live 
upon  earth,  but  in  'The  New  Jerusalem  which  is  come 
down  from  Heaven!" 

Ingmar  said  he  was  glad  to  hear  that  Hellgum  was  still 
in  the  neighbourhood.  The  summer  before  the  preacher 
had  often  dropped  in  at  the  mill  to  chat  with  Ingmar,  and 
the  two  had  become  good  friends.  Ingmar  thought  him 
the  finest  chap  he  had  ever  met.  Never  had  he  come 
across  any  one  who  was  so  much  of  a  man,  so  firm  in  his 
convictions,  and  so  sure  of  himself.  Sometimes,  when 
there  had  been  a  great  rush  of  work  at  the  mill,  Hellgum 
had  pulled  off  his  coat  and  given  them  a  lift.  Ingmar  had 
been  amazed  at  the  man's  cleverness;  he  had  never  seen 
any  one  who  was  so  quick  at  his  work.  Just  then  Hellgum 
happened  to  be  away  for  a  few  days,  but  was  expected 
back  shortly. 

"Once  you've  talked  with  Hellgum,  I  think  that  you 
will  join  us,"  Karin  said.  Ingmar  thought  so,  too,  al- 
though he  felt  a  little  reluctant  about  accepting  anything 
which  had  not  been  approved  by  his  father. 

"But  wasn't  it  father  himself  who  taught  us  that  we 
must  always  walk  in  the  ways  of  God  ? "  argued  Karin. 


THE  NEW  WAY  177 

Everything  seemed  to  be  so  bright  and  so  promising! 
Ingmar  had  never  dreamed  that  it  would  be  so  delightful 
to  get  back  among  people  once  more.  There  was  only  one 
thing  wanting:  no  one  ever  spoke  of  the  schoolmaster  and 
his  wife,  or  of  Gertrude,  which  was  most  disquieting  to 
him.  He  had  not  seen  Gertrude  for  a  whole  year.  In  the 
summer  he  had  never  been  without  news  of  her;  for  then 
hardly  a  day  went  by  that  some  one  did  not  speak  of  the 
Storms.  He  thought  that  perhaps  this  silence  regarding 
his  old  friends  was  accidental.  When  one  feels  timid 
about  asking  questions,  and  when  no  one  voluntarily 
speaks  of  that  which  one  longs  above  everything  to  hear 
about,  it  is  mighty  provoking,  to  say  the  least. 

But  if  young  Ingmar  seemed  to  be  happy  and  content, 
the  same  could  not  be  said  of  Strong  Ingmar.  The  old 
man  had  of  late  become  sullen  and  taciturn  and  difficult 
to  get  on  with. 

"I  believe  you  are  homesick  for  the  forest,"  Ingmar 
said  to  him  one  afternoon  as  they  sat  on  separate  logs  eat- 
ing their  sandwiches. 

"God  knows  I  am!"  the  old  man  burst  forth.  "I  only 
wish  I  had  never  come  back  at  all!" 

"Why,  what's  gone  wrong  at  home?" 

"How  can  you  ask!  You  must  know  as  well  as  I  that 
Hellgum  has  been  raising  the  deuce  around  here." 

Ingmar  answered  that,  on  the  contrary,  he  had  heard 
that  Hellgum  had  become  a  big  man. 

"Yes,  he  has  grown  so  big  and  strong  that  he's  been  able 
to  upset  the  whole  parish,"  Strong  Ingmar  sneered. 


178  JERUSALEM 

It  seemed  strange  to  Ingmar  that  the  old  man  never 
evinced  a  particle  of  affection  for  any  of  his  own  kin.  He 
cared  for  nobody  and  for  nothing  save  the  Ingmarssons 
and  the  Ingmar  Farm.  Therefore  Ingmar  felt  that  he 
must  stand  up  for  the  son-in-law. 

"I  think  his  doctrine  a  good  one,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  you  do,  do  you?"  snapped  the  old  man;  and  he 
gave  him  a  withering  look.  "Do  you  think  Big  Ingmar 
would  have  thought  so?" 

Ingmar  replied  that  his  father  would  have  upheld  any 
one  who  worked  for  righteousness. 

"It's  your  belief,  then,  that  Big  Ingmar  would  have 
approved  of  calling  all  persons  who  do  not  belong  to  Hell- 
gum's  band  devils  and  anti-Christs,  and  that  he  would 
have  refused  to  associate  with  his  old  friends  because  they 
held  to  their  old  faith?" 

"I  hardly  think  that  such  people  as  Hellgum  and  Hal- 
vor  and  Karin  would  behave  in  that  way,"  said  Ingmar. 

"Just  you  try  to  oppose  them  once,  and  you'll  soon  hear 
what  they  think  of  you!" 

Ingmar  cut  off  a  big  corner  of  his  sandwich  and  stuffed 
his  mouth  full,  so  he  would  not  have  to  talk.  It  irritated 
him  to  see  Strong  Ingmar  in  such  bad  humour. 

"  Heigho,  hum !  It's  a  queer  world,"  sighed  the  old  man. 
"Here  you  sit,  the  son  of  Big  Ingmar,  with  nothing  to  say, 
while  my  Anna  Lisa  and  her  husband  are  living  on  the  fat 
of  your  land.  The  best  people  in  the  parish  bow  and 
scrape  to  them,  and  every  day  they're  being  feted,  here, 
there,  and  everywhere." 


THE  NEW  WAY  179 

Ingmar  kept  on  munching  and  swallowing.  There  was 
nothing  he  could  say.  Strong  Ingmar,  however,  went  at 
him  again. 

"Yes,  it's  a  fine  doctrine  that  Hellgum  is  spreading! 
That's  why  half  the  parish  has  gone  over  to  him.  No  one 
has  ever  had  such  absolute  influence  over  the  people,  not 
even  Strong  Ingmar  himself.  He  separates  children  from 
their  parents  by  preaching  that  those  who  are  of  his  fold 
must  not  live  among  sinners.  Hellgum  need  only  beckon, 
and  brother  leaves  brother,  friend  leaves  friend,  and  the 
lover  deserts  his  betrothed.  He  has  used  his  power  to 
create  strife  and  dissension  in  every  household.  Of 
course,  Big  Ingmar  would  have  been  pleased  to  death  with 
that  sort  of  thing!  Doubtless  he  would  have  backed  Hell- 
gum  up  in  all  this!  I  can  just  picture  him  doing  it!'* 

Ingmar  looked  up  and  down;  he  wanted  to  get  away. 
He  knew,  to  be  sure,  that  the  old  man  had  been  drawing 
heavily  on  his  imagination,  but  all  the  same  this  talk  de- 
pressed him. 

"I  don't  deny  that  Hellgum  has  done  wonders,"  he 
modified.  "The  way  in  which  he  manages  to  hold  his 
people  together,  and  the  way  he  can  get  those  who  formerly 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other  to  live  on 
friendly  terms,  is  certainly  remarkable.  And  look  how  he 
takes  from  the  rich  to  give  to  the  poor,  and  how  he  makes 
each  person  protect  the  other's  welfare.  I'm  only  sorry 
for  those  on  the  outside,  who  are  called  children  of  the 
devil  and  are  not  allowed  in  the  game.  But.  of  course,  you 
don't  feel  that  wav  " 


i8o  JERUSALEM 

Ingmar  was  thoroughly  put  out  with  the  old  man  for 
speaking  so  disparagingly  of  Hellgum. 

"There  used  to  be  such  peace  and  harmony  in  this  par- 
ish!" the  old  man  rattled  on.  "But  that's  all  past  and 
gone.  In  Big  Ingmar's  time  we  lived  in  such  unity  that  we 
had  the  name  of  being  the  friendliest  people  in  all  Dale- 
carlia.  Now  there  are  angels  bucking  against  devils,  and 
sheep  against  goats." 

"If  we  could  only  get  the  saws  going,"  thought  Ingmar, 
"I  wouldn't  have  to  hear  any  more  of  this  talk!" 

"It  won't  be  long  either  till  it's  all  over  between  you  and 
me,"  Strong  Ingmar  continued.  "For  if  you  join  Hell- 
gum's  angels  it  isn't  likely  that  they  will  let  you  associate 
with  me." 

With  an  oath  Ingmar  jumped  to  his  feet.  "If  you  go 
on  talking  in  this  strain  it  may  turn  out  just  as  you  say,"  he 
warned.  "You  may  as  well  understand,  once  for  all,  that  it 
is  of  no  use  your  trying  to  turn  me  against  my  own  people, 
or  against  Hellgum,  who  is  the  grandest  man  I  know." 

That  silenced  the  old  man.  In  a  little  while  he  left  his 
work,  saying  that  he  was  going  down  to  the  village  to  see 
his  friend  Corporal  Felt.  He  had  not  talked  with  a  sensi- 
ble person  for  a  long  time,  he  declared. 

Ingmar  was  glad  to  have  him  go.  Naturally,  when  a 
person  has  been  away  from  home  for  a  long  time  he  does 
not  care  to  be  told  unpleasant  things,  but  wants  every  one 
around  him  to  be  bright  and  cheerful. 

At  five  the  next  morning  Ingmar  got  down  to  the  mill, 
but  Strong  Ingmar  was  there  ahead  of  him. 


THE  NEW  WAY  181 

"To-day  you  can  see  Hellgum,"  the  old  man  began. 
"He  and  Anna  Lisa  got  back  late  last  night.  I  think  they 
must  have  hurried  home  from  their  round  offcasts  in  order 
to  convert  you." 

"  So  you're  at  it  again ! "  scowled  Ingmar.  The  old  man's 
words  had  been  ringing  in  his  ears  all  night,  and  he  could 
not  help  wondering  who  was  in  the  right.  But  now  he  did 
not  want  to  listen  to  any  more  talk  against  his  relatives. 
The  old  man  held  his  peace  for  a  time;  presently  he  began 
to  chuckle. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  Ingmar  demanded,  his 
hand  on  the  sluice  gate  ready  to  set  the  sawmill  going. 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  the  schoolmaster's  Gertrude." 

"What  about  her?" 

"They  said  down  at  the  village  yesterday  that  she  was 
the  only  person  who  had  any  influence  over  Hellgum." 

"What's  Gertrude  got  to  do  with  Hellgum?" 

Ingmar,  meanwhile,  had  not  opened  the  sluice  gate,  for 
with  the  saws  going  he  could  not  have  heard  a  word.  The 
old  man  eyed  him  questioningly.  Ingmar  smiled  a  little. 
"You  always  manage  somehow  to  have  your  own  way,"  he 
said. 

"It  was  that  silly  goose,  Gunhild,  Councillor  Clements- 
son's  daughter,  who — 

"She's  no  silly  goose!"  Ingmar  broke  in. 

"Oh,  call  it  anything  you  like,  but  she  happened  to  be  at 
the  Ingmar  Farm  when  this  new  sect  was  founded.  As 
soon  as  she  got  home,  she  informed  her  parents  that  she 
had  accepted  the  only  true  faith,  and  that  she  would  there- 


1 82  JERUSALEM 

fore  have  to  leave  them  and  make  her  home  at  the  Ingmar 
Farm.  Her  parents  asked  her,  of  course,  why  she  wanted 
to  leave  home.  So  she'd  be  able  to  lead  a  righteous  life, 
she  up  and  told  them.  But  they  seemed  to  think  that 
could  be  done  just  as  effectively  at  home  with  them.  Oh, 
no,  that  wouldn't  be  possible,  she  declared,  unless  one 
could  live  with  those  who  were  of  the  same  faith.  Her 
father  then  asked  her  if  all  of  them  were  going  to  live  on 
the  Ingmar  Farm.  No,  only  herself;  the  others  had  true 
Christians  in  their  own  homes.  Now  Clementsson  is  a 
pretty  good  sort,  as  you  know,  and  both  he  and  his  wife 
tried  to  reason  with  Gunhild  in  all  kindness,  but  she  stood 
firm.  At  last  her  father  became  so  exasperated  that  he  just 
took  her  and  locked  her  up  in  her  room,  telling  her  she'd 
have  to  stay  there  till  this  crazy  fit  had  passed." 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  tell  me  about  Gertrude," 
Ingmar  reminded  him. 

"I'll  get  round  to  her  by  and  by,  if  you'll  only  have 
patience.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  early  the 
next  morning,  while  Gertrude  and  Mother  Stina  were 
sitting  in  the  kitchen  spinning,  Mrs.  Clementsson  called  to 
see  them.  When  they  saw  her  they  became  alarmed. 
She,  who  was  usually  so  happy  and  light  of  heart,  now 
looked  as  if  she'd  been  crying  her  eyes  out.  'What's  the 
matter?  What  has  happened?  And  why  do  you  look  so 
forlorn  ? '  they  asked.  Then  Mother  Clementsson  answered 
that  when  one  has  lost  one's  dearest  treasure,  one  can't 
very  well  look  cheerful.  I'd  like  to  give  them  a  good  beat- 
ing!" said  the  old  man. 


THE  NEW  WAY  183 

"Who?"  asked  Ingmar. 

"Why,  Hellgum  and  Anna  Lisa.  They  marched  them- 
selves down  to  Clementsson's  in  the  night  and  kidnapped 
Gunhild." 

A  cry  of  amazement  escaped  Ingmar. 

"I'm  beginning  to  think  my  Anna  Lisa  is  married  to  a 
brigand!"  said  the  old  man.  "In  the  middle  of  the  night 
they  came  and  tapped  on  Gunhild's  window,  and  asked  her 
why  she  wasn't  at  the  Ingmar  Farm.  She  told  them  about 
her  parents  having  locked  her  in.  '  'Twas  Satan  who  made 
'em  do  it,'  said  Hellgum.  All  this  her  father  and  mother 
overheard." 

"Did  they  really?" 

"Yes,  they  slept  in  the  next  room,  and  the  door  between 
was  partly  open;  so  they  heard  all  that  Hellgum  said  to 
entice  their  daughter." 

"But  they  could  have  sent  him  away.'* 

"They  felt  that  Gunhild  should  decide  for  herself.  How 
could  they  think  she  would  want  to  leave  them,  after  all 
they  had  done  for  her?  They  lay  there  expecting  her  to 
say  that  she  would  never  desert  her  old  parents." 

"Did  she  go?" 

"Yes,  Hellgum  wouldn't  budge  till  the  girl  went  along 
with  them.  When  Clementsson  and  his  wife  realized  that 
she  couldn't  resist  Hellgum,  they  let  her  go.  Some  folks 
are  like  that,  you  see.  In  the  morning  the  mother  regretted 
it,  and  begged  the  father  to  drive  down  to  the  Ingmar  Farm 
and  get  their  daughter.  'No  indeed!'  he  said,  Til  do 
nothing  of  the  sort,  and  what's  more,  I  never  want  to  set 


1 84  JERUSALEM 

eyes  on  her  again  unless  she  comes  home  of  her  own  accord.' 
Then  Mrs.  Clementsson  hurried  down  to  the  school  to  see 
if  Gertrude  wouldn't  go  and  talk  to  Gunhild." 

"Did  Gertrude  go?" 

"Yes;  she  tried  to  reason  with  Gunhild,  but  Gunhild 
wouldn't  listen." 

"I  have  not  seen  Gunhild  at  our  house,"  said  Ingmar 
thoughtfully. 

"No,  for  now  she  is  back  with  her  parents.  It  seems 
that  when  Gertrude  left  Gunhild  she  met  Hellgum. 
'There  stands  the  one  who  is  to  blame  for  all  this,'  she 
thought,  and  then  she  went  straight  up  to  him,  and  gave  him 
a  tongue  lashing.  She  wouldn't  have  minded  striking  him." 

"Oh,  Gertrude  can  talk  all  right,"  said  Ingmar  ap- 
provingly. 

"She  told  Hellgum  that  he  had  behaved  like  a  heathen 
warrior  and  not  as  a  Christian  preacher,  in  skulking  about 
like  that  in  the  night  and  abducting  a  young  girl." 

"What  did  Hellgum  say  to  that?" 

"He  stood  quietly  listening  for  a  while;  then  he  said  as 
meek  as  you  please  that  she  was  right,  he  had  acted  in 
haste.  And  in  the  afternoon  he  took  Gunhild  back  to  her 
parents  and  made  everything  right  again." 

Ingmar  glanced  up  at  the  old  man  with  a  smile.  "Ger- 
trude is  splendid,"  he  said,  "and  Hellgum  is  a  fine  fellow, 
even  if  he  is  a  little  eccentric." 

"So  that's  the  way  you  take  it,  eh?  I  thought  you 
would  wonder  why  Hellgum  had  given  in  like  that  to 
Gertrude." 


THE  NEW  WAY  185 

Ingmar  did  not  reply  to  this. 

After  a  moment's  reflection  the  old  man  began  again. 
"There  are  many  in  the  village  who  want  to  know  on  which 
side  you  stand." 

"I  don't  see  as  it  matters  which  party  I  belong  to." 

"Let  me  remind  you  of  one  thing,"  said  the  old  man: 
"In  this  parish  we  are  accustomed  to  having  somebody 
that  we  can  look  up  to  as  a  leader.  But  now  that  Big 
Ingmar  is  gone,  and  the  schoolmaster  has  lost  his  power 
over  the  people,  while  the  pastor,  as  you  know,  was  never 
any  good  at  ruling,  they  run  after  Hellgum,  and  they're 
going  to  follow  him  just  as  long  as  you  choose  to  remain  in 
the  background." 

Ingmar's  hands  dropped;  he  looked  quite  worn  out. 
"  But  I  don't  know  who  is  in  the  right,"  he  protested. 

"The  people  are  looking  to  you  for  deliverance  from 
Hellgum.  You  may  be  sure  that  we  were  spared  a  lot  of 
unpleasantness  by  being  away  from  home  all  winter.  It 
must  have  been  something  dreadful  in  the  beginning,  be- 
fore people  had  got  used  to  this  converting  craze  and  to 
being  called  devils  and  hellhounds.  But  the  worst  of  all 
was  when  the  converted  children  started  in  to  preach!" 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  even  the  children 
preached,"  said  Ingmar  doubtingly. 

"Oh,  yes ! "  the  old  man  returned.  "  Hellgum  told  them 
that  they  should  serve  the  Lord  instead  of  playing,  so  they 
started  in  to  convert  their  elders.  They  lay  in  ambush 
along  the  roadside,  and  pounced  upon  innocent  passers-by 
with  such  ravings  as  these:  'Aren't  you  going  to  begin  the 


1 86  JERUSALEM 

fight  against  the  devil?  Shall  you  continue  to  live  in 
sin?'" 

Young  Ingmar  did  not  want  to  believe  what  Strong 
Ingmar  was  recounting.  "Old  man  Felt  must  have  put  all 
that  into  your  head,"  he  concluded. 

"By  the  way,  this  was  what  I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  said 
Strong  Ingmar:  "Felt  is  done  for,  too!  When  I  think 
that  all  this  mischief  has  been  hatched  on  the  Ingmar 
Farm,  I  feel  ashamed  to  look  people  in  the  face." 

"Have  they  wronged  Felt  in  any  way?"  asked  Ingmar. 

"It  was  the  work  of  those  youngsters,  drat  them!  One 
evening,  when  they  had  nothing  else  to  do,  they  took  it 
into  their  heads  to  go  and  convert  Felt,  for  of  course  they 
had  heard  that  he  was  a  great  sinner." 

"But  in  the  old  days  all  the  children  were  as  afraid  of 
Felt  as  they  were  of  witches  and  trolls,"  Ingmar  reminded. 

"Oh,  these  youngsters  were  scared,  too,  but  they  must 
have  had  their  hearts  set  upon  doing  something  very 
heroic.  So  one  evening,  as  Felt  sat  stirring  his  evening 
porridge,  they  stormed  his  cabin.  When  they  opened  the 
door  and  saw  the  old  Corporal,  with  his  bristling  mous- 
taches, his  broken  nose,  and  his  game  eye,  sitting  before 
the  fire,  they  were  terribly  frightened,  and  two  of  the 
littlest  ones  ran  away.  The  dozen  or  so  that  went  in 
knelt  in  a  circle  around  the  old  man,  and  began  to  sing  and 
pray." 

"And  didn't  he  drive  them  out?"  asked  Ingmar. 

"If  only  he  had!"  sighed  the  old  man.  "I  don't  know 
what  had  come  over  the  Corporal.  The  poor  wretch 


THE  NEW  WAY  187 

must  have  been  sitting  there  brooding  over  the  loneliness 
and  desolation  of  his  old  age.  And  then  I  suppose  it  was 
because  those  who  had  come  to  him  were  children.  The 
fact  that  children  had  always  been  afraid  of  him  must 
have  been  a  source  of  grief  to  the  old  man;  and  when  he 
saw  all  those  baby  faces,  with  their  upturned  eyes  filled 
with  shining  tears,  he  was  powerless.  The  children  were 
only  waiting  for  him  to  rush  at  them  and  strike  them. 
Although  they  kept  right  on  singing  and  praying,  they 
were  ready  to  cut  and  run  the  instant  he  made  a  move. 
Presently  a  pair  of  them  noticed  that  Felt's  face  was  be- 
ginning to  twitch.  'Now  he'll  go  for  us,'  they  thought, 
getting  up  to  flee.  But  the  old  man  blinked  his  one 
good  eye,  and  a  tear  rolled  down  his  cheek.  'Hallelujah!' 
the  youngsters  shouted,  and  now,  as  I've  already  told  you, 
it's  all  up  with  Felt.  Now  he  does  nothing  but  run  about 
to  meetings,  and  fasts  and  prays,  and  fancies  he  hears  the 
voice  of  God." 

"I  don't  see  anything  hurtful  in  all  that,"  said  Ingmar. 
"Felt  was  killing  himself  with  drink  when  the  Hell- 
gumists  took  him  into  camp." 

"Well,  you've  got  so  many  friends  to  lose  that  a  little 
thing  like  this  wouldn't  matter  to  you.  No  doubt  you 
would  have  liked  it  if  the  children  had  succeeded  in  con- 
verting the  schoolmaster." 

"I  can't  imagine  those  poor  little  kids  trying  to  tackle 
Storm!"  Ingmar  was  dumfounded.  What  Strong  Ingmar 
had  said  about  the  parish  being  turned  upside  down  must 
be  true  after  all,  he  thought. 


1 88  JERUSALEM 

"But  they  did,  though,"  Strong  Ingmar  replied.  "One 
evening,  as  Storm  was  sitting  in  the  classroom  writing,  a 
score  of  them  came  in  and  began  preaching  to  him." 

"And  what  did  Storm  do?"  asked  Ingmar,  unable  to 
keep  from  laughing. 

"He  was  so  astounded  at  first  that  he  couldn't  say  or  do 
a  thing.  But,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Hellgum  had  arrived 
a  few  moments  before  and  was  in  the  kitchen  talking  with 
Gertrude." 

"Was  Hellgum  with  Gertrude?" 

"Yes;  Hellgum  and  Gertrude  have  been  friends  ever 
since  the  day  that  he  acted  upon  her  advice  in  the  little 
matter  with  Gunhild.  When  Gertrude  heard  the  racket 
in  the  schoolroom,  she  said:  'You're  just  in  time  to  see 
something  new,  Hellgum.  It  would  seem  that  hence- 
forth the  children  are  to  instruct  the  schoolmaster/  Then 
Hellgum  laughed,  for  he  comprehended  that  this  sort  of 
thing  was  ludicrous.  He  promptly  drove  the  children  out, 
and  abolished  the  nuisance." 

Ingmar  noticed  that  the  old  man  was  eying  him  in  a  pe- 
culiar way;  it  was  as  if  a  hunter  were  looking  at  a  wounded 
bear  and  wondering  whether  he  should  give  it  another 
shot. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  expect  of  me,"  said  Ingmar. 

"What  could  I  expect  of  you,  who  are  only  a  boy!  Why, 
you  haven't  a  penny  to  your  name.  All  you've  got  in  the 
world  are  your  two  empty  hands." 

"I  verily  believe  you  want  me  to  throttle  Hellgum!" 

"They  said  down  at  the  village  that  this  would  soon 


THE  NEW  WAY  189 

blow  over  if  you  could  only  induce  Hellgum  to  leave  these 
parts." 

"Whenever  a  new  religious  sect  springs  up  there's  al- 
ways strife  and  dissension,"  said  Ingmar.  "So  this  is 
nothing  out  of  the  common." 

"All  the  same,  this  will  be  a  good  way  for  you  to  show 
people  what  sort  of  stuff  you're  made  of,"  the  old  man 
persisted. 

Ingmar  turned  away  and  set  the  saws  going.  He  would 
have  liked  above  everything  to  ask  how  Gertrude 'was  get- 
ting along,  and  whether  she  had  already  joined  the  Hell- 
gumists;  but  he  was  too  proud  to  betray  his  fears. 

At  eight  o'clock  he  went  home  to  his  breakfast.  As 
usual,  the  table  was  heaped  with  tempting  dishes,  and  both 
Halvor  and  Karin  were  especially  nice  to  him.  Seeing 
them  so  kind  and  gentle,  he  could  not  believe  a  word  of 
Strong  Ingmar's  chatter.  He  felt  light  of  heart  once 
more,  and  positive  that  the  old  man  had  exaggerated.  In  a 
little  while  his  anxiety  about  Gertrude  returned,  with  a 
force  so  overwhelming  that  it  took  away  his  appetite,  and 
he  could  not  touch  his  food.  Suddenly  he  turned  to  Karin 
and  said  abruptly: 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  Storms  lately?" 

"No!"  replied  Karin  stiffly.  "I  don't  care  to  associate 
with  such  ungodly  people." 

Here  was  an  answer  that  set  Ingmar  thinking.  He 
wondered  whether  he  had  better  speak  or  be  silent.  If  he 
were  to  speak  it  might  end  in  a  break  with  his  family;  at 
the  same  time  he  did  not  want  them  to  think  that  he  up- 


190  JERUSALEM 

held  them  in  matters  that  were  altogether  wrong.  "I 
have  never  seen  any  signs  of  ungodliness  about  the 
schoolmaster's  folks,"  he  retorted.  "And  yet  I  have 
lived  with  them  for  four  years." 

The  very  thought  that  had  occurred  to  Ingmar  the  mo- 
ment before,  now  came  to  Karin.  She,  too,  wondered 
whether  she  should  or  should  not  speak.  But  she  felt 
that  she  would  have  to  hold  to  the  truth,  even  if  it  hurt 
Ingmar;  therefore  she  said  that  if  people  would  not 
hearken  to  the  voice  of  God,  one  could  not  help  but  think 
them  ungodly. 

Then  Halvor  joined  in.  "The  question  of  the  children 
is  a  vital  one,"  he  said.  "They  should  be  given  the  right 
kind  of  training." 

"Storm  has  trained  the  entire  parish,  and  you,  too, 
Halvor,"  Ingmar  reminded  him. 

"But  he  has  not  taught  us  how  to  live  rightly,"  said 
Karin. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  always  tried  to  do  that, 
Karin." 

"Let  me  tell  you  how  it  was  to  live  by  the  old  teaching. 
It  was  like  trying  to  walk  upon  a  round  beam:  one  minute 
you  were  up,  the  next  you  were  down.  But  when  I  let 
my  fellow-Christians  take  me  by  the  hand  and  support 
me,  I  can  tread  the  straight  and  narrow  path  of  Righteous- 
ness without  stumbling." 

"I  dare  say,"  Ingmar  smiled;  "but  that's  too  easy." 

"Even  so,  it's  quite  difficult  enough,  but  no  longer  im- 
possible." 


THE  NEW  WAY  191 

"But  what  about  the  Storms?" 

"Those  who  belong  with  us  took  their  children  out  of 
the  school.  You  see  we  didn't  want  the  children  to  absorb 
any  of  the  old  teaching." 

"What  did  the  schoolmaster  say  to  that?" 

"He  said  it  was  against  the  law  to  take  children  away 
from  school,  and  promptly  sent  a  constable  over  to  Israel 
Tomasson's  and  Krister  Larsson's  to  fetch  their  children." 

"And  now  you  are  not  on  friendly  terms  with  the 
Storms?" 

"We  simply  keep  to  ourselves." 

"You  seem  to  be  at  odds  with  every  one." 

"We  only  keep  away  from  those  who  would  tempt  us 
to  sin." 

As  the  three  went  on  talking,  they  lowered  their  voices. 
They  were  all  very  fearful  of  every  word  they  let  drop,  for 
they  felt  that  the  conversation  had  taken  a  painful  turn. 

"But  I  can  give  you  greetings  from  Gertrude,"  said 
Karin,  trying  to  assume  a  more  cheerful  tone.  "Hell- 
gum  had  many  talks  with  her  last  winter;  he  says  that  she 
expects  to  join  us  this  evening." 

Ingmar's  lips  began  to  quiver.  It  was  as  if  he  had  been 
going  about  blindfolded  all  day,  expecting  to  be  shot,  and 
now  the  shot  had  come;  the  bullet  had  pierced  his  heart. 

"So  she  wants  to  become  one  of  you!"  he  murmured 
faintly.  "Many  things  can  happen  here  while  one  is  up 
in  the  dark  forest."  Ingmar  seemed  to  think  that  all  this 
time  Hellgum  had  been  ingratiating  himself  with  Gertrude, 
and  had  laid  snares  to  catch  her.  "But  what's  to  become 


192  JERUSALEM 

of  me?"  he  asked  suddenly.  And  there  was  a  strange, 
helpless  appeal  in  his  voice. 

"You  must  embrace  our  faith,"  said  Halvor  decisively. 
"Hellgum  is  back  now,  and  if  he  talks  to  you  once,  you'll 
soon  become  converted." 

"But  maybe  I  don't  care  to  be  converted!" 

Halvor  and  Karin  stared  at  Ingmar  in  speechless 
amazement. 

"Maybe  I  don't  want  any  faith  but  my  father's." 

"Don't  say  anything  until  you  have  had  a  talk  with 
Hellgum,"  begged  Karin. 

"But  if  I  don't  join  you  I  suppose  you  won't  want  me 
to  remain  under  your  roof?"  said  Ingmar,  rising.  As  they 
did  not  reply,  it  seemed  to  him  that  all  at  once  he  had  been 
cut  off  from  everything.  Then  he  pulled  himself  together 
and  looked  more  determined.  "Now  I  want  to  know 
what  you're  going  to  do  about  the  sawmill!"  he  demanded, 
thinking  it  was  best  to  have  this  matter  settled  once  for 
all. 

Halvor  and  Karin  exchanged  glances;  both  were  afraid 
of  committing  themselves. 

"You  know,  Ingmar,  that  there  is  no  one  in  the  world 
who  is  more  dear  to  us  than  you,"  said  Halvor. 

"Yes,  yes;  but  what  about  the  sawmill?"  Ingmar  in- 
sisted. 

"The  principal  thing  is  to  get  all  your  timber  sawed." 

At  Halvor's  evasive  reply,  Ingmar  drew  his  own  con- 
clusions. "Maybe  Hellgum  wants  to  run  the  sawmill, 
too?" 


THE  NEW  WAY  193 

Karin  and  Halvor  were  perplexed  at  Ingmar's  show  of 
temper;  since  telling  him  that  about  Gertrude,  they  could 
not  seem  to  get  anywhere  near  him. 

"Let  Hellgum  talk  to  you,"  pleaded  Karin. 

"Oh,  I'll  let  him  talk  to  me,"  said  Ingmar,  "but  first  I'd 
like  to  know  just  where  I  stand." 

"Surely,  Ingmar,  you  must  know  that  we  wish  you 
well!" 

"But  Hellgum  is  to  run  the  sawmill?" 

"We  must  find  some  suitable  employment  for  Hellgum 
so  that  he  may  remain  in  his  own  country.  We  have 
been  thinking  that  possibly  you  and  he  might  become 
business  partners,  provided  you  accept  the  only  true  faith. 
Hellgum  is  a  good  worker."  This  from  Halvor. 

"Since  when  have  you  been  afraid  to  speak  plainly, 
Halvor?"  said  Ingmar.  "All  I  want  to  know  is  whether 
Hellgum  is  to  have  the  sawmill." 

"He  is  to  have  it  if  you  resist  God,"  Halvor  declared. 

"I'm  obliged  to  you  for  telling  me  what  a  good  stroke  of 
business  it  would  be  for  me  to  adopt  your  faith." 

"You  know  well  enough  it  wasn't  meant  in  that  way," 
said  Karin  reprovingly. 

"I  understand  quite  well  what  you  mean,"  returned  Ing- 
mar. "I'm  to  lose  Gertrude  and  the  sawmill  and  the  old 
home  unless  I  go  over  to  the  Hellgumists."  Then  Ingmar 
turned  suddenly  and  walked  out  of  the  house. 

Once  outside,  the  thought  came  to  him  that  he  might  as 
well  end  this  suspense,  and  find  out  at  once  where  he  stood 
with  Gertrude.  So  he  went  straight  down  to  the  school- 


i94  JERUSALEM 

house.  When  Ingmar  opened  the  gate  a  mild  spring  rain 
was  falling.  In  the  schoolmaster's  beautiful  garden  all 
things  had  started  sprouting  and  budding.  The  ground 
was  turning  green  so  rapidly  that  one  could  almost  see  the 
grass  growing.  Gertrude  was  standing  on  the  steps 
watching  the  rain,  and  two  large  bird-cherry  bushes,  thick 
with  newly  sprung  leaves,  spread  their  branches  over  her. 
Ingmar  paused  a  moment,  astonished  at  finding  every- 
thing down  here  so  lovely  and  peaceful.  He  was  already 
beginning  to  feel  less  disquieted.  Gertrude  had  not  yet 
seen  him.  He  closed  the  gate  very  gently,  then  went 
toward  her.  When  he  was  quite  close  he  stopped  and 
gazed  at  her  in  rapt  wonder.  When  he  had  last  seen 
her  she  was  hardly  more  than  a  child,  but  in  one  short  year 
she  had  developed  into  a  dignified  and  beautiful  young 
lady.  She  was  now  tall  and  slender  and  quite  grown  up, 
her  head  was  finely  poised  on  a  graceful  neck;  her  skin  was 
soft  and  fair,  shading  into  a  fresh  pink  about  the  cheeks; 
her  eyes  were  deep  and  thoughtful,  and  her  mouth,  around 
which  mischief  and  merriment  had  once  played,  now  ex- 
pressed seriousness  and  wistful  longing. 

On  seeing  Gertrude  so  changed,  a  sense  of  supreme 
happiness  came  to  Ingmar.  A  peaceful  stillness  pervaded 
his  whole  being;  it  was  as  though  he  were  in  the  presence  of 
something  great  and  holy.  It  was  all  so  beautiful  that  he 
wanted  to  go  down  on  his  knees  and  thank  God. 

But  when  Gertrude  saw  Ingmar  she  suddenly  stiffened, 
her  eyebrows  contracted,  and  between  her  eyes  there  ap- 
peared the  shadow  of  a  wrinkle.  He  saw  at  once  that  she 


THE  NEW  WAY  195 

did  not  like  his  being  there,  and  it  cut  him  to  the  quick. 
"They  want  to  take  her  from  me,"  he  thought;  "they 
have  already  taken  her  from  me."  The  feeling  of  Sabbath 
peace  vanished,  and  the  old  fear  and  anxiety  returned. 
Waving  all  ceremony,  he  asked  Gertrude  if  it  was  true  that 
she  intended  to  join  Hellgum  and  his  followers.  She 
answered  that  it  was.  Then  Ingmar  asked  her  if  she  had 
considered  that  the  Hellgumists  would  not  allow  her  to 
associate  with  persons  who  did  not  think  as  they  did. 
Gertrude  quietly  answered  that  she  had  carefully  con- 
sidered this  matter. 

"Have  you  the  consent  of  your  father  and  mother?" 
asked  Ingmar. 

"No,"  she  replied;  "they  know  nothing  as  yet." 

"But,  Gertrude " 

"Hush,  Ingmar!  I  must  do  this  to  find  peace.  God 
compels  me." 

"No,"  he  cried,  "not  God,  but " 

Gertrude  suddenly  turned  toward  him. 

Then  Ingmar  told  her  that  he  would  never  join  the  Hell- 
gumists. "If  you  go  over  to  them,  that  will  part  us  for- 
ever." 

Gertrude  looked  at  him  as  much  as  to  say  that  she  did 
not  see  how  this  could  affect  her. 

"Don't  do  it,  Gertrude!"  he  implored. 

"You  mustn't  think  that  I'm  acting  heedlessly,  for  I 
have  given  this  matter  very  serious  thought." 

"Then  think  it  over  once  more  before  you  act." 

Gertrude  turned  from  him  impatiently. 


196  JERUSALEM 

"You  should  also  think  it  over  for  Hellgum's  sake,"  said 
Ingmar  with  rising  anger,  seizing  her  by  the  arm. 

She  shook  off  his  hand.  "Are  you  out  of  your  senses, 
Ingmar?"  she  gasped. 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "these  doings  of  Hellgum  are 
driving  me  mad.  They  must  be  stopped!" 

"What  must  be  stopped?" 

"You'll  find  out  before  long." 

Gertrude  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Good-bye,  Gertrude!"  he  said  in  a  choking  voice. 
"And  remember  what  I  tell  you.  You  will  never  join  the 
Hellgumists!" 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do,  Ingmar?"  asked  the  girl,  for 
she  was  beginning  to  feel  uneasy. 

"Good-bye,  Gertrude,  and  think  of  what  I  have  said!" 
Ingmar  shouted  back,  for  by  that  time  he  was  halfway 
down  the  gravel  walk. 

Then  he  went  on  his  way.  "  If  I  were  only  as  wise  as  my 
father!"  he  mused.  "But  what  can  I  do?  I'm  about  to 
lose  all  that  is  dearest  to  me,  and  I  see  no  way  of  preventing 
it."  There  was  one  thing,  however,  of  which  Ingmar  was 
certain :  if  all  this  misery  was  to  be  forced  upon  him,  Hell- 
gum  should  not  escape  with  his  skin. 

He  went  down  to  Strong  Ingmar's  hut  in  the  hope  of 
meeting  the  preacher.  When  he  got  to  the  door,  he  caught 
the  sound  of  loud  and  angry  voices.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
number  of  visitors  inside,  so  he  turned  back  at  once.  As 
he  walked  away  he  heard  a  man  say  in  angry  tones:  "We 
are  three  brothers  who  have  come  a  long  way  to  call  you  to 


THE  NEW  WAY  197 

account,  John  Hellgum,  for  what  has  befallen  our  younger 
brother.  Two  years  ago  he  went  over  to  America,  where 
he  joined  your  community.  The  other  day  we  received 
a  letter  telling  us  that  he  had  gone  out  of  his  mind,  brood- 
ing over  your  teaching." 

Then  Ingmar  hurried  away.  Apparently  there  were 
others  besides  himself  who  had  cause  for  complaint  against 
Hellgum,  and  they  were  all  of  them  equally  helpless. 

He  went  down  to  the  sawmill,  which  had  already  been 
set  going  by  Strong  Ingmar.  Above  the  buzzing  noise 
of  the  saws  and  the  roar  of  the  rapids  he  heard  a 
shriek;  but  he  paid  no  special  heed  to  it.  He  had  no 
thought  for  anything  save  his  strong  hatred  of  Hellgum. 
He  was  going  over  in  his  mind  all  that  this  man  had  robbed 
him  of:  Gertrude  and  Karin,  his  home  and  his  business. 

Again  he  seemed  to  hear  a  cry.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
possibly  a  quarrel  had  arisen  between  Hellgum  and  the 
strangers.  "There  would  be  no  harm  done  if  they  were  to 
beat  the  life  out  of  him,"  he  thought. 

Then  he  heard  a  loud  shout  for  help.  Ingmar  dropped 
his  work  and  went  rushing  up  the  hill.  The  nearer  he 
approached  the  hut  the  plainer  he  heard  Hellgum's  cries  of 
distress,  and  when  he  finally  reached  the  cabin  it  seemed  as 
if  the  very  earth  around  it  shook  from  the  scuffling  and 
struggling  inside. 

He  cautiously  opened  the  door  and  tiptoed  in.  Over 
against  the  wall  stood  Hellgum  defending  himself  with  an 
axe.  The  three  strangers — all  of  them  big,  powerful  men 
— were  attacking  him  with  clubs.  They  carried  no  guns, 


i98  JERUSALEM 

so  it  was  evident  that  they  had  come  simply  to  give  Hell- 
gum  a  sound  thrashing.  But  because  he  had  put  up  a 
good  fight,  they  were  so  enraged  that  they  went  at  him 
with  intent  to  kill.  They  hardly  noticed  Ingmar;  they 
regarded  him  as  nothing  but  a  lank  gawk  of  a  boy  who  had 
just  happened  in. 

For  a  moment  Ingmar  stood  quietly  looking  on.  To 
him  it  was  like  a  dream,  wherein  the  thing  one  desires  most 
suddenly  appears  without  one's  knowing  whence  or  how  it 
came  about.  Now  and  again  Hellgum  cried  for  help. 

" Surely  you  can't  think  I'm  such  a  fool  as  to  help  you!" 
Ingmar  said  in  his  mind. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  men  dealt  Hellgum  a  terrific  blow 
on  the  head  that  made  him  let  go  his  hold  on  the  axe  and 
fall  to  the  floor.  Then  the  others  threw  down  their  clubs, 
drew  their  knives,  and  cast  themselves  upon  him.  In- 
stantly a  thought  flashed  across  Ingmar's  mind.  There 
was  an  old  saying  about  the  folk  of  his  family,  to  the  effect 
that  every  one  of  them  was  destined  at  some  time  or  other 
during  his  lifetime  to  commit  a  dastardly  and  wrong  deed. 
Was  it  his  turn  now,  he  wondered  ? 

All  at  once  one  of  the  assailants  felt  himself  in  the  grip  of 
a  pair  of  strong  arms  that  lifted  him  off  his  feet  and  threw 
him  bodily  out  of  the  house;  the  second  one  had  hardly 
time  to  think  of  rising  before  the  same  thing  happened  tc 
him;  and  the  third,  who  had  managed  to  scramble  to  his 
feet,  got  a  blow  that  sent  him  headlong  after  the  others. 

After  Ingmar  had  thrown  them  all  out,  he  went  and 
stood  in  the  doorway.  "Don't  you  want  to  come  back?" 


THE  NEW  WAY  199 

he  challenged  laughingly.  He  would  not  have  minded 
their  attacking  him;  testing  his  strength  was  good  sport. 

The  three  brothers  seemed  quite  ready  to  renew  the 
fight,  when  one  of  them  shouted  that  they  had  better  take 
to  their  heels  he  had  seen  a  figure  coming  along  the  path 
behind  the  elms.  They  were  furiously  disappointed  at  not 
having  finished  Hellgum,  and,  as  they  turned  to  go,  one  of 
them  ran  back,  pounced  upon  Ingmar,  and  stabbed  him  in 
the  neck. 

"That's  for  meddling  with  our  affair!"  he  shouted. 

Ingmar  sank  down,  and  the  man  ran  off,  with  a  taunting 
laugh. 

A  few  minutes  later  Karin  came  along  and  found  Ingmar 
sitting  on  the  doorstep  with  a  wound  in  his  neck,  and  in- 
side she  discovered  Hellgum,  who  by  that  time  had  got  to 
his  feet  again  and  was  now  leaning  against  the  wall,  axe  in 
hand  and  his  face  covered  with  blood.  Karin  had  not 
seen  the  fleeing  men;  she  supposed  that  Ingmar  was  the  one 
who  had  attacked  Hellgum  and  wounded  him.  She  was  so 
horrified  that  her  knees  shook.  "No,  no!"  she  thought, 
"it  can't  be  possible  that  any  one  in  our  family  is  a 
murderer."  Then  she  recalled  the  story  of  her  mother. 
"That  accounts  for  it,"  she  muttered,  and  hurried  past 
Ingmar  over  to  Hellgum. 

"Ingmar  first!"  cried  Hellgum. 

"The  murderer  should  not  be  helped  before  his  victim," 
said  Karin. 

"Ingmar  first!  Ingmar  first!"  Hellgum  kept  shouting. 
He  was  so  excited  that  he  raised  his  axe  against  her.  "He 


200  JERUSALEM 

has  fought  the  would-be  murderers  and  saved  my  life!"  he 
said. 

When  Karin  finally  understood,  and  turned  to  help 
Ingmar,  he  was  gone.  She  saw  him  stagger  across  the 
yard,  and  ran  after  him,  calling,  "Ingmar!  Ingmar!" 

Ingmar  went  on  without  even  turning  his  head.  But 
she  soon  caught  up  with  him.  Placing  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  she  said: 

"Stop,  Ingmar,  and  let  me  bind  up  your  wound!" 

He  shook  off  her  hand  and  went  ahead  like  a  blind  man, 
following  neither  road  nor  bypath.  The  blood  from  his 
open  wound  trickled  down  underneath  his  clothes  into  one 
of  his  shoes.  With  every  step  that  he  made,  blood  was 
pressed  out  of  the  shoe,  leaving  a  red  track  on  the  ground. 

Karin  followed  him,  wringing  her  hands.  "Stop,  Ing- 
mar, stop!"  she  implored.  "Where  are  you  going?  Stop, 
I  say!" 

Ingmar  wandered  on,  straight  into  the  wood,  where  there 
was  no  one  to  succor  him.  Karin  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on 
his  shoe,  which  was  oozing  blood.  Every  second  the  foot- 
prints were  becoming  redder  and  redder. 

"He's  going  into  the  forest  to  lie  down  and  bleed  to 
death!"  thought  Karin.  "God  bless  you,  Ingmar,  for 
helping  Hellgum!"  she  said  gently.  "It  took  a  man's 
courage  to  do  that,  and  a  man's  strength,  too!" 

Ingmar  tramped  straight  ahead,  paying  no  heed  what- 
ever to  his  sister.  Then  Karin  ran  past  him  and  planted 
herself  in  his  way.  He  stepped  aside  without  so  much  as 
glancing  at  her.  "Go  and  help  Hellgum!"  he  muttered. 


THE  NEW  WAY  201 

"Let  me  explain,  Ingmar!  Halvor  and  I  were  very 
sorry  for  what  we  said  to  you  this  morning,  and  I  was  just 
on  my  way  to  Hellgum  to  let  him  know  that,  whichever 
way  it  turned  out,  you  were  to  keep  the  sawmill." 

"Now  you  can  give  it  to  Hellgum,"  was  Ingmar's  an- 
swer. He  walked  on,  stumbling  over  stones  and  tree 
stumps. 

Karin  kept  close  behind,  trying  her  best  to  conciliate 
him.  "Can't  you  forgive  me  for  my  mistake  of  a  moment 
in  thinking  you  had  fought  with  Hellgum?  I  could  hardly 
have  thought  differently." 

"You  were  very  ready  to  believe  your  own  brother  a 
murderer,"  Ingmar  retorted,  without  giving  her  a  look. 
He  still  walked  on.  When  the  grass  blades  he  had 
trampled  down  came  up  again,  blood  dripped  from  them. 
It  was  only  after  Karin  had  noticed  the  peculiar  way  in 
which  Ingmar  had  spoken  Hellgum's  name,  that  she  began 
to  realize  how  he  hated  the  preacher.  At  the  same  time 
she  saw  what  a  big  thing  he  had  done. 

"Every  one  will  be  singing  your  praises  for  what  you 
did  to-day,  Ingmar;  it  will  be  known  far  and  wide,"  she 
said.  "You  don't  want  to  die  and  miss  all  the  honours, 
do  you?" 

Ingmar  laughed  scornfully.  Then  he  turned  toward 
her  a  face  that  was  pale  and  haggard.  "Why  don't  you 
go  home,  Karin?"  he  said.  "I  know  well  enough  whom 
you  would  prefer  to  help."  His  steps  became  more  and 
more  uncertain,  and  now,  where  he  had  walked,  there  was 
a  continuous  streak  of  blood  on  the  ground. 


202  JERUSALEM 

Karin  was  about  beside  herself  at  the  sight  of  all  this 
blood.  The  great  love  which  she  had  always  felt  for 
Ingmar  kindled  with  new  ardour.  Now  she  was  proud 
of  her  brother,  and  thought  him  a  stout  branch  of  the  good 
old  family  tree. 

"Oh,  Ingmar!"  she  cried,  "you'll  have  to  answer  before 
God  and  your  fellowmen  if  you  go  on  spilling  your  life's 
blood  in  this  way.  You  know,  if  there  is  anything  I  can 
do  to  make  you  want  to  live,  you  have  only  to  speak." 

Ingmar  halted,  and  put  his  arm  around  the  stem  of  a 
tree  to  hold  himself  up.  Then,  with  a  cynical  laugh,  he 
said:  "Perhaps  you'll  send  Hellgum  back  to  America?" 

Karin  stood  looking  down  at  the  pool  of  blood  that  was 
forming  around  Ingmar's  left  foot,  pondering  over  the 
thing  her  brother  wanted  her  to  do.  Could  it  be  that  he 
expected  her  to  leave  the  beautiful  Garden  of  Paradise 
where  she  had  lived  all  winter,  and  go  back  to  the  wretched 
world  of  sin  she  had  come  out  of? 

Ingmar  turned  round  squarely;  his  face  was  waxen,  the 
skin  across  his  temples  was  tightly  drawn,  and  his  nose 
was  like  that  of  a  dead  person;  but  his  under  lip  protruded 
with  a  determination  that  he  had  never  before  shown, 
and  the  set  look  about  the  mouth  was  sharply  defined. 
It  was  not  likely  that  he  would  modify  his  demand. 

"I  don't  think  that  Hellgum  and  I  can  live  in  the  same 
parish,"  he  said,  "but  it's  plain  enough  that  I  must  make 
way  for  him." 

"No,"  cried  Karin  quickly,  "if  you  will  only  let  me  care 
for  you,  so  that  your  life  may  be  spared  to  us,  I  promise 


THE  NEW  WAY  203 

you  that  I  will  see  that  Hellgum  goes  away.  God  will 
surely  find  us  another  shepherd,"  thought  Karin,  "but  for 
the  time  being  it  seems  best  to  let  Ingmar  have  his  way." 

After  she  had  staunched  the  wound,  she  helped  Ingmar 
home  and  put  him  to  bed.  He  was  not  badly  wounded. 
All  he  needed  was  to  rest  quietly  for  a  few  days.  He  lay 
abed  in  a  room  upstairs,  and  Karin  tended  him  and 
watched  over  him  like  a  baby. 

The  first  day  Ingmar  was  delirious,  and  lived  over  all 
that  had  happened  to  him  in  the  morning.  Karin  soon 
discovered  that  Hellgum  and  the  sawmill  were  not  the 
only  things  that  had  caused  him  anxiety.  By  evening 
his  mind  was  clear  and  tranquil;  then  Karin  said  to  him: 
"There  is  some  one  who  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

Ingmar  replied  that  he  felt  too  tired  to  talk  to  any  one. 

"But  I  think  this  will  do  you  good." 

Directly  afterward  Gertrude  came  into  the  room.  She 
looked  quite  solemn  and  troubled.  Ingmar  had  been 
fond  of  Gertrude  even  in  the  old  days,  when  she  was  full 
of  fun,  and  provoking.  But  at  that  time  something  within 
him  had  always  fought  against  his  love.  But  now  Ger- 
trude had  passed  through  a  trying  year  of  longing  and 
unrest,  which  had  wrought  such  a  wonderful  change  in 
her  that  Ingmar  felt  an  uncontrollable  longing  to  win  her. 
When  Gertrude  came  over  to  the  bed,  Ingmar  put  his 
hand  up  to  his  eyes. 

"Don't  you  want  to  see  me?"  she  asked. 

Ingmar  shook  his  head.     He  was  like  a  wilful  child. 

"I  only  want  to  say  a  few  words  to  you,"  said  Gertrude. 


204  JERUSALEM 

"I  suppose  you've  come  to  tell  me  that  you  have  joined 
the  Hellgumists?" 

Then  Gertrude  knelt  down  beside  the  bed  and  lifted  his 
hand  from  his  eyes.  "There  is  something  which  you  don't 
know,  Ingmar,"  she  whispered. 

He  looked  inquiringly  at  her,  but  did  not  speak.  Ger- 
trude blushed  and  hesitated.  Finally  she  said: 

"Last  year,  just  as  you  were  leaving  us,  I  had  begun  to 
care  for  you  in  the  right  way." 

Ingmar  coloured  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  and  a  look  of 
joy  came  into  his  eyes;  but  immediately  he  became  grave 
and  distrustful  again. 

"I  have  missed  you  so,  Ingmar!"  she  murmured. 

He  smiled  doubtingly,  but  patted  her  hand  a  little  as 
thanks  for  her  wanting  to  be  kind  to  him. 

"And  you  never  once  came  back  to  see  me,"  she  said 
reproachfully.  "It  was  as  if  I  no  longer  existed  for 
you." 

"  I  didn't  want  to  see  you  again  until  I  was  a  well-to-do 
man  and  could  propose  to  you,"  said  Ingmar,  as  if  this 
were  a  self-evident  matter. 

"But  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  me!"  Gertrude's 
eyes  filled  up.  "You  don't  know  what  a  terrible  year  it 
has  been.  Hellgum  has  been  very  kind,  and  has  tried  to 
comfort  me.  He  said  my  heart  would  be  at  rest  if  I  would 
give  it  wholly  to  God." 

Ingmar  now  looked  at  her  with  a  newborn  hope  in  his 
gaze. 

"  I  was  so  frightened  when  you  came  this  morning/'  she 


THE  NEW  WAY  205 

confessed,  "I  felt  that  I  couldn't  resist  you,  and  that  the 
old  struggle  would  begin  anew." 

Ingmar's  face  was  beaming. 

"But  this  evening,  when  I  heard  about  your  having 
helped  the  one  man  whom  you  hated,  I  couldn't  hold  out 
any  longer."  Gertrude  grew  scarlet.  "I  felt  somehow 
that  I  had  not  the  strength  to  do  a  thing  that  would  part 
me  from  you."  Then  she  bowed  her  head  over  Ingmar's 
hand,  and  kissed  it. 

And  it  seemed  to  Ingmar  as  if  great  bells  were  ringing 
in  a  holy  day.  Within  reigned  Sabbath  peace  and  still- 
ness, while  love,  honey  sweet,  rested  upon  his  lips,  filling 
his  whole  being  with  a  blissful  solace. 


BOOK  THREE 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS" 

ONE  misty  night  in  the  summer  of  1880 — about 
two  years  before  the  schoolmaster's  mission  house 
was  built  and  Hellgum's  return  from  America 
— the  great  French  liner  L'Univers  was  steaming  across 
the  Atlantic,  from  New  York  and  bound  for  Havre. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  all  the 
passengers,  as  well  as  most  of  the  crew,  were  asleep  in 
their  berths.  The  big  decks  were  entirely  empty  of  people. 

Just  then,  at  the  break  of  day,  an  old  French  sailor  lay 
twisting  and  turning  in  his  hammock,  unable  to  rest.  There 
was  quite  a  sea  on,  and  the  ship's  timbers  creaked  inces- 
santly; but  it  was  certainly  not  this  that  kept  him  from 
falling  asleep.  He  and  his  mates  occupied  a  large  but 
exceedingly  low  compartment  between  decks.  It  was 
lighted  by  a  couple  of  lanterns,  so  that  he  could  see  the 
gray  hammocks,  which  hung  in  close  rows,  slowly  swing- 
ing to  and  fro  with  their  slumbering  occupants.  Now  and 
again  a  strong  gust  of  wind  swept  in  through  one  of  the 
hatches,  which  was  so  searchingly  cold  and  damp  that  it 
brought  to  his  mind's  eye  a  vivid  picture  of  the  vast  sea 
around  him,  rolling  its  grayish-green  waves  beneath  its 
veil  of  mists. 

"There's  nothing  like  the  sea!"  thought  the  old  sailor. 
As  he  lay  there  musing,  all  at  once  everything  became 

209 


210  JERUSALEM 

strangely  still  around  him;  he  heard  neither  the  churning 
of  the  propeller,  nor  the  rattling  of  the  rudder  chains,  nor 
the  lapping  of  the  waves,  nor  the  whistling  of  the  wind, 
nor  any  other  sound.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  ship  had 
suddenly  gone  to  the  bottom,  and  that  he  and  his  mates 
would  never  be  shrouded  or  laid  in  their  coffins,  but  must 
remain  hanging  in  their  gray  hammocks  in  the  depths  of  the 
sea  till  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

Before,  he  had  always  dreaded  the  thought  that  his  end 
might  be  a  watery  grave,  but  now  the  idea  of  it  was  pleas- 
ing to  him.  He  was  glad  it  was  the  moving  and  trans- 
parent water  that  covered  him,  and  not  the  heavy,  black, 
suffocating  mould  of  the  churchyard.  "There's  nothing 
like  the  sea,"  he  thought  again. 

Then  he  fell  to  thinking  of  something  that  made  him 
uneasy.  He  wondered  whether  his  lying  at  the  bottom 
of  the  ocean  without  having  received  Extreme  Unc- 
tion would  not  be  bad  for  his  soul;  he  began  to  fear  that 
now  his  soul  would  never  be  able  to  find  its  way  up  to 
Heaven. 

At  that  moment  his  eye  caught  a  faint  glimmer  of  light 
coming  from  the  forecastle.  He  raised  himself,  and  leaned 
over  the  side  of  the  hammock  to  see  what  it  was.  Pres- 
ently he  saw  two  persons  coming,  each  of  whom  was  carry- 
ing a  lighted  candle.  He  bent  still  farther  forward  so  as 
to  see  who  they  were.  The  hammocks  were  hung  so  close 
together  and  so  near  to  the  floor  that  any  one  wanting  to 
pass  through  the  room,  without  pushing  or  knocking 
against  those  who  were  sleeping  there,  would  have  to  crawl 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  211 

on  hands  and  knees.  The  old  seaman  wondered  who  the 
persons  could  be  that  were  able  to  pass  in  this  crowded 
place.  He  soon  discovered  that  they  were  two  diminu- 
tive acolytes,  in  surplice  and  cassock,  each  bearing  a 
lighted  candle. 

The  sailor  was  not  at  all  surprised.  It  seemed  only 
natural  that  such  little  folk  should  be  able  to  walk  with 
burning  candles  under  hammocks.  "I  wonder  if  there  is 
a  priest  with  them?"  he  said.  Immediately  he  heard  the 
tinkling  sound  of  a  little  bell,  and  saw  some  one  following 
them.  However,  it  was  no  priest,  but  an  old  woman  who 
was  not  much  bigger  than  the  boys. 

The  old  woman  looked  familiar  to  him.  "It  must  be 
mother,"  he  thought.  "I've  never  seen  any  one  as  tiny 
as  mother,  and  surely  no  one  but  mother  could  be  coming 
along  so  softly  and  quietly  without  waking  people." 

He  noticed  that  his  mother  wore  over  her  black  dress  a 
long  white  linen  surplice,  edged  with  a  wide  border  of  lace, 
such  as  is  worn  by  priests.  In  her  hand  she  held  the  large 
missal  with  the  gold  cross  which  he  had  seen  hundreds  of 
times  lying  on  the  altar  in  the  church  at  home. 

The  little  acolytes  now  placed  their  candles  at  the  side  of 
his  hammock  and  knelt  down,  each  swinging  a  censer. 
The  old  sailor  caught  the  sweet  odour  of  burning  incense, 
saw  blue  clouds  ascend,  and  heard  the  rhythmical  click, 
click  of  the  censer  chains.  In  the  meantime,  his  mother 
had  opened  the  big  book  and  was  reading  the  prayers  for 
the  dead.  Now  it  seemed  good  to  him  to  be  lying  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea — much  better  than  being  in  the  church- 


212  JERUSALEM 

yard.  He  stretched  himself  in  the  hammock,  and  for  a 
long  time  he  could  hear  his  mother's  voice  mumbling 
Latin  words.  The  smoke  of  the  incense  curled  round  him 
as  he  listened  to  the  even  click,  click  of  the  moving  censers. 

Then  it  all  ceased.  The  acolytes  took  up  their  candles 
and  walked  away,  followed  by  his  mother,  who  suddenly 
closed  the  book  with  a  bang.  He  saw  all  three  disappear 
beneath  the  gray  hammocks. 

The  instant  they  had  gone  the  silence  was  at  an  end.  He 
heard  the  breathing  of  his  comrades,  the  timbers  creaked, 
the  wind  whistled,  and  the  waves  swish-swashed  against  the 
ship.  Then  he  knew  that  he  was  still  among  the  living, 
and  on  top  of  the  sea. 

"  Jesu  Maria!  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  the  things 
I  have  seen  this  night?"  he  asked  himself. 

Ten  minutes  later  L'Univers  was  struck  amidships.  It 
was  as  if  the  steamer  had  been  cut  in  two. 

"This  was  what  I  expected,"  thought  the  old  seaman. 

During  the  terrible  confusion  that  ensued  while  the 
other  sailors,  only  half  awake,  rolled  out  of  their  hammocks, 
he  carefully  dressed  himself  in  his  best  clothes.  He  had 
had  a  foretaste  of  death  which  was  sweet  and  mild,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  sea  had  already  claimed  him  as  its 
own. 


A  little  cabin  boy  lay  sleeping  in  the  deckhouse  near  the 
dining-salon  when  the  collision  occurred.  Startled  by 
the  shock,  he  sat  up  in  his  bunk,  half  dazed,  and  wondering 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  213 

what  had  happened.  Just  over  his  head  there  was  a  small 
porthole,  through  which  he  peered.  All  he  could  see  was 
fog  and  some  shadowy  gray  object  which  had,  as  it  were, 
sprung  from  the  fog.  He  seemed  to  see  monstrous  gray 
wings.  A  mammoth  bird  must  have  swooped  down  on  the 
ship,  he  thought.  The  steamer  rolled  and  heeled  as  the 
huge  monster  went  at  it  with  claws  and  beak  and  flapping 
wings. 

The  little  cabin  boy  thought  he  would  die  from  fright. 
In  a  second  he  was  wide  awake.  Then  he  discovered  that 
a  large  sailing  vessel  had  collided  with  the  steamer.  He 
saw  great  sails  and  a  strange  deck,  where  men  in  oil- 
skin coats  were  rushing  about  in  mad  terror.  The  wind 
freshened,  and  the  sails  became  as  taut  as  drums.  The 
masts  bulged,  while  the  yards  snapped  with  a  succession  of 
reports  that  sounded  like  pistol  shots.  A  great  three- 
master,  which  in  the  dense  fog  had  sailed  straight  into 
L'Univers,  had  somehow  got  her  bowsprit  wedged  into  the 
side  of  the  liner,  and  could  not  free  herself.'  The  passenger 
steamer  listed  considerably,  but  its  propellers  went 
right  on  working,  so  that  now  both  ships  moved  along 
together. 

"Lord  God!"  exclaimed  the  cabin  boy  as  he  rushed  out 
on  deck,  "that  poor  boat  has  run  into  us,  and  now  it  will 
surely  sink!" 

It  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  steamer  could  be  im- 
perilled, big  and  fine  as  she  was.  The  officers  came 
hurrying  up;  but  when  they  saw  it  was  only  a  sailing 
vessel  that  had  collided  with  their  ship,  they  felt  quite 


214  JERUSALEM 

safe,  and  with  the  utmost  confidence  took  the  necessary 
steps  for  getting  the  boats  clear  of  each  other. 

The  little  cabin  boy  stood  on  the  deck  barelegged,  his 
shirt  fluttering  in  the  wind,  and  beckoned  to  the  unhappy 
men  on  the  sailing  vessel  to  come  over  to  the  steamer 
and  save  themselves.  At  first  no  one  seemed  to  take  any 
notice  of  him,  but  presently  a  big  man  with  a  red  beard 
began  motioning  to  him. 

"Come  over  here,  boy!"  the  man  shouted,  running  to 
the  side  of  the  vessel.  "The  steamer  is  sinking!" 

The  little  boy  had  not  the  faintest  notion  of  going  over  to 
the  sailing  vessel.  He  shouted  as  loud  as  he  could  that 
the  people  on  the  doomed  boat  should  come  over  to 
L'Univers,  and  save  their  lives. 

While  the  other  men  on  the  three-master  were  working 
with  poles  and  boat  hooks  to  free  their  vessel  from  the 
steamer,  the  man  with  the  red  beard  could  think  of  nothing 
but  the  little  cabin  boy,  for  whom  he  had  evidently  con- 
ceived an  extraordinary  pity.  He  put  his  hands  to  his 
mouth,  trumpet-like,  and  called:  "Come  over  here,  come 
over  here!" 

The  little  lad  looked  forlorn  and  cold,  standing  on  the 
deck  in  his  thin  shirt.  He  stamped  his  foot  and  shook  his 
fist  at  the  men  on  the  other  boat,  because  they  would  not 
mind  him  and  board  the  steamer.  A  huge  greyhound  like 
L'Univers,  wjth  six  hundred  passengers  and  a  crew  of  two 
hundred  men,  couldn't  possibly  go  down,  he  reasoned. 
And,  of  course,  he  could  see  that  both  the  captain  and  the 
sailors  were  just  as  calm  as  he  was. 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  215 

Of  a  sudden  the  man  with  the  red  beard  seized  a  boat 
hook,  thrust  it  out  toward  the  boy,  got  him  by  the  shirt, 
and  tried  to  pull  him  on  to  the  other  ship.  The  boy  was 
dragged  as  far  as  the  ship's  railing,  but  there  he  managed 
to  free  himself  of  the  hook.  He  was  not  going  to  let  him- 
self be  dragged  over  to  a  strange  vessel  that  was  doomed. 

Immediately  afterward  another  crash  was  heard.  The 
bowsprit  of  the  three-master  had  snapped,  and  the  two 
ships  were  now  clear  of  each  other.  As  the  liner  steamed 
ahead,  the  boy  saw  the  big  broken  bowsprit  dangling  in  the 
bow  of  the  other  vessel,  and  he  also  saw  great  clouds  of 
sails  drop  down  upon  the  crew. 

The  liner  proceeded  on  her  course  at  full  speed,  and  the 
sailing  vessel  was  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the  fog.  The  last 
thing  the  boy  saw  was  the  men  trying  to  get  out  from  under 
the  mass  of  sails.  Thereupon  the  vessel  disappeared  as 
completely  as  if  it  had  slipped  in  behind  a  great  wall.  "It 
has  already  gone  down,"  thought  the  lad.  And  now  he 
stood  listening  for  distress  calls. 

Then  a  rough  and  powerful  voice  was  heard  to  shout 
across  to  the  steamer:  "Save  your  passengers!  Put  out 
your  boats!" 

Again  there  was  silence,  and  again  the  boy  listened  for 
distress  calls.  Then  the  voice  was  heard  as  if  from  far 
away:  "Pray  to  God,  for  you  are  lost!" 

At  that  moment  an  old  sailor  stepped  up  to  the  captain. 
"We  have  a  big  hole  amidships;  we  are  going  down,"  he 
said,  quietly  and  impressively. 


216  JERUSALEM 

Soon  after  the  nature  of  the  accident  had  become  known 
on  the  steamer,  a  little  lady  appeared  on  deck.  She  had 
come  from  one  of  the  first-class  cabins  with  certain  and 
determined  step.  She  was  dressed  from  top  to  toe,  and 
her  bonnet  strings  were  tied  in  a  natty  bowknot.  She  was 
a  little  old  lady,  with  crimped  hair,  round,  owlish-looking 
eyes,  and  a  florid  complexion. 

During  the  short  time  the  voyage  had  lasted  she  had 
managed  to  become  acquainted  with  every  one  on  board. 
Everybody  knew  that  her  name  was  Miss  Hoggs,  and  she 
had  told  them  all — the  crew  as  well  as  passengers — time  and 
again,  that  she  was  never  afraid.  She  didn't  see  why 
she  need  have  any  fear,  she  would  have  to  die  at  one 
time  or  another,  she  had  said,  and  whether  it  happened 
soon  or  late  was  immaterial  to  her.  Nor  was  she  afraid 
now;  she  had  gone  up  on  deck  simply  to  see  if  anything 
interesting  or  exciting  was  going  on  there. 

The  first  thing  she  saw  was  two  sailors  darting  past  with 
wild,  terrified  faces.  Stewards,  half  dressed,  came  running 
out  from  their  quarters  to  go  down  and  waken  the  pas- 
sengers and  get  them  on  deck.  An  old  sailor  came  up  with 
an  armful  of  life  belts,  which  he  tossed  on  the  deck.  A  little 
cabin  boy  in  his  shirt  was  crouching  in  a  corner,  sobbing 
and  shrieking  that  he  was  going  to  die.  The  captain  was 
on  his  bridge,  and  Miss  Hoggs  heard  him  give  orders  to 
stop  the  engines  and  to  man  the  lifeboats. 

Engineers  and  stokers  came  rushing  up  the  grimy  ladder 
leading  from  the  engine  room,  shouting  that  the  water  had 
already  reached  the  fires.  Miss  Hoggs  had  hardly  been  on 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  217 

deck  a  moment  before  it  was  thronged  with  steerage 
passengers,  who  had  come  up  in  a  body,  shrieking  that  they 
would  have  to  hurry  and  make  for  the  boats,  otherwise  none 
but  the  first  and  second  class  passengers  would  be  saved. 

As  the  excitement  and  confusion  increased,  Miss  Hoggs 
began  to  realize  that  they  were  in  actual  danger;  so  she 
quietly  slipped  away  to  the  upper  deck,  where  several  life- 
boats hung  in  their  davits,  just  outside  the  railing.  Up 
here  there  was  not  a  soul,  and  Miss  Hoggs,  without  being 
seen,  climbed  over  the  railing  and  scrambled  into  one  of 
the  boats  suspended  above  the  watery  abyss.  As  soon  as 
she  was  well  inside,  she  congratulated  herself  upon  her 
wisdom  and  foresight.  That  was  the  advantage  of  having 
a  clear  and  cool  head,  she  thought.  She  knew  that  when 
once  the  boat  was  lowered  there  would  be  a  wild  scramble 
for  it;  the  crush  in  the  gangway  and  on  the  companion 
ladder  would  be  something  awful.  Again  and  again  she 
congratulated  herself  on  having  thought  of  getting  into  the 
boat  beforehand. 

Miss  Hoggs's  boat  was  hung  far  aft,  but  by  leaning  over 
the  edge  of  it  she  could  see  the  companion  ladder.  Then 
she  saw  that  a  boat  had  been  manned,  and  that  people  were 
getting  into  it.  Suddenly  a  terrible  cry  went  up.  Some 
one  in  the  excitement  had  fallen  overboard.  This  must 
have  frightened  the  others,  for  cries  arose  from  all  sides  of 
the  ship,  and  the  passengers  heedlessly  crowded  the  gang- 
way, pushing  and  fighting  their  way  toward  the  ladder.  In 
the  struggle  many  of  them  went  overboard.  A  few  persons, 
who  saw  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  to  the  ladder, 


218  JERUSALEM 

jumped  into  the  sea,  thinking  they  would  swim  to  the  boat. 
Just  then  the  lifeboat,  already  loaded  to  its  full  capacity, 
rowed  away.  The  people  that  were  in  it  drew  their  knives 
and  threatened  to  cut  off  the  fingers  of  any  one  who  at- 
tempted to  get  inside. 

Miss  Hoggs  saw  one  boat  after  another  launched.  She 
also  saw  one  boat  after  another  capsize  under  the  weight  of 
those  who  hurled  themselves  down  into  them. 

The  lifeboats  near  to  hers  were  lowered,  but  for  some 
unaccountable  reason  no  one  had  touched  the  one  in  which 
she  was  seated.  "Thank  God  they  are  leaving  my  boat 
alone  till  the  worst  is  over,"  she  thought. 

And  Miss  Hoggs  heard  and  saw  dreadful  things.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  was  suspended  over  a  hell.  She 
could  not  see  the  deck  itself,  but  from  the  sounds  that 
reached  her,  she  gathered  that  a  frightful  struggle  was  tak- 
ing place  there.  She  heard  pistol  shots  and  saw  blue 
smoke  clouds  rise  in  the  air. 

At  last  there  came  a  moment  when  everything  was 
hushed.  "This  would  be  the  right  time  to  lower  my  boat," 
thought  Miss  Hoggs.  She  was  not  at  all  afraid,  but  sat 
back  with  perfect  composure  until  the  steamer  began  to 
settle.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  it  dawned  on  Miss  Hoggs 
that  L'Univers  was  sinking,  and  that  her  boat  had  been  for- 
gotten. 


On  board  the  steamer  was  a  young  American  matron,  a 
Mrs.  Gordon,  who  was  on  her  way  to  Europe  to  visit  her 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  219 

parents,  who  for  some  years  had  been  living  in  Paris.  She 
had  her  two  little  boys  with  her,  and  all  three  were  asleep 
in  their  cabin  when  the  accident  occurred.  The  mother 
was  immediately  awakened,  and  soon  managed  to  get  the 
children  partly  dressed;  then  throwing  a  cloak  over  her 
night  robe,  she  went  out  into  the  narrow  passageway  be- 
tween the  cabins. 

The  passage  was  full  of  people  who  had  rushed  out  from 
their  staterooms  to  hurry  on  deck.  Here  it  was  not 
difficult  to  pass;  but  in  the  companionway  there  was  a 
terrible  crush.  She  saw  people  pushing  and  crowding, 
with  no  thought  of  any  one  but  themselves,  as  more  than  a 
hundred  persons,  all  at  one  time,  tried  to  rush  up.  The 
young  American  woman  stood  holding  her  two  children  by 
the  hand.  She  looked  longingly  up  the  stairway,  wonder- 
ing how  she  could  manage  to  press  through  the  throng  with 
her  little  ones.  The  people  fought  and  struggled,  thinking 
only  of  themselves.  No  one  even  noticed  her. 

Mrs.  Gordon  glanced  anxiously  about  in  the  hope  of 
finding  some  one  who  would  take  one  of  the  boys  and  carry 
him  to  the  deck,  while  she  herself  took  the  other.  But  she 
saw  no  one  she  dared  approach.  The  men  came  dashing 
past,  dressed  every  which  way.  Some  were  wrapped  in 
blankets,  others  had  on  ulsters  over  their  nightshirts,  and 
many  of  them  carried  canes.  When  she  saw  the  desperate 
look  in  the  eyes  of  these  men,  she  felt  that  it  would  not  be 
safe  to  speak  to  them. 

Of  the  women,  on  the  other  hand,  she  had  no  fear;  but 
there  was  not  one,  even  among  them,  to  whom  she  would 


220  JERUSALEM 

dare  entrust  her  child.  They  were  all  out  of  their  senses, 
and  could  not  have  comprehended  what  she  wanted  of 
them.  She  stood  regarding  them,  wondering  whether 
there  might  not  be  one,  perhaps,  who  had  a  bit  of  reason 
left.  But  seeing  them  rush  wildly  past — some  hugging  the 
flowers  they  had  received  on  their  departure  from  New 
York,  others  shrieking  and  wringing  their  hands — she 
knew  it  was  useless  to  appeal  to  such  frenzied  people. 
Finally,  she  attempted  to  stop  a  young  man  who  had  been 
her  neighbour  at  table,  and  had  shown  her  marked  atten- 
tion. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Martens- 

The  man  glowered  at  her  with  the  same  fixed  savage 
stare  that  she  had  seen  in  the  eyes  of  the  other  men.  He 
raised  his  cane  threateningly,  and  had  she  tried  to  detain 
him,  he  would  have  struck  her. 

The  next  moment  she  heard  a  howl,  which  was  hardly  a 
howl,  but  rather  an  angry  murmur,  as  when  a  strong  and 
sweeping  wind  becomes  bottled  up  in  a  narrow  passage.  It 
came  from  the  people  on  the  companionway,  whose  prog- 
ress had  been  suddenly  impeded. 

A  cripple  had  been  borne  part  way  up  the  stairs — a  man 
who  was  so  entirely  helpless  that  he  had  to  be  carried  to  and 
from  the  table.  He  was  a  large,  heavy  man,  and  his  valet 
had  with  the  greatest  difficulty  managed  to  bear  him  on  his 
back  halfway  up  the  stairs,  where  he  had  paused  to  take 
breath.  In  the  meantime,  the  pressure  from  behind  had 
become  so  tremendous  that  it  had  forced  him  to  his 
knees;  and  he  and  his  master  were  taking  up  the  whole 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  221 

width  of  the  stairway,  thus  creating  an  impassable  obstruc- 
tion. 

Presently  Mrs.  Gordon  saw  a  big,  rough-looking  man 
bend  down,  lift  up  the  cripple,  and  throw  him  over  the 
banister.  She  also  marked  that,  horrible  as  was  this 
spectacle,  no  one  seemed  to  be  either  shocked  or  moved  by 
it.  For  nobody  thought  of  anything  save  to  rush  ahead. 
It  was  as  if  a  stone  lying  in  the  road  had  been  picked  up  and 
tossed  into  the  ditch — nothing  more. 

The  young  American  mother  saw  that  among  these 
people  there  was  no  hope  of  being  saved;  she  and  her 
children  were  doomed. 


There  were  a  young  bride  and  groom  on  board  who  were 
on  their  honeymoon.  Their  cabin  was  far  down  in  the 
body  of  the  ship,  and  they  had  slept  so  soundly  that  they 
had  not  even  heard  the  collision.  Nor  was  there  much 
commotion  in  their  part  of  the  boat  afterward.  And  as  no 
one  had  thought  of  calling  them,  they  were  still  asleep  when 
every  one  else  was  on  deck  fighting  for  the  lifeboats.  But 
they  woke  when  the  propeller,  which  the  whole  night 
had  been  revolving  directly  under  their  heads,  sud- 
denly stopped.  The  husband  hurriedly  drew  on  a 
garment  or  two,  and  ran  out  to  see  what  was  up.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  returned.  He  carefully  closed  the 
cabin  door  after  him  before  uttering  a  word.  Then  he 
said: 

"The  ship  is  sinking." 


222  JERUSALEM 

At  the  same  time  he  sat  down,  and  when  his  wife 
would  have  rushed  out,  he  begged  her  to  remain  with 
him. 

"The  boats  have  all  gone,"  he  said.  "Most  of  the  pas- 
sengers have  been  drowned,  and  those  who  are  still  on  the 
ship  are  now  up  on  deck,  fighting  desperately  for  rafts  and 
life  belts."  He  told  her  that  in  the  gangway  he  was 
obliged  to  step  over  a  woman  who  had  been  trampled  to 
death,  and  that  he  had  heard  the  cries  of  the  doomed  on  all 
sides.  "There's  no  chance  of  our  being  saved,  so  don't  go 
out!  Let  us  die  together!" 

The  young  bride  felt  that  he  was  right,  and  resignedly 
sat  down  beside  him. 

"You  wouldn't  like  to  see  all  those  people  struggling  and 
fighting,"  he  said.  "Since  we've  got  to  die  anyway,  let  us 
at  least  have  a  peaceful  death." 

She  knew  that  it  was  no  more  than  right  that  she  should 
stay  there  with  him  the  few  short  moments  of  life  still  left 
to  them.  Had  she  not  promised  to  give  him  a  whole  life- 
time of  devotion  ? 

"I  had  hoped,"  he  went  on,  "that  after  we  had  been 
married  many,  many  years,  you  would  be  sitting  by  me 
when  I  lay  on  my  deathbed,  and  I  would  thank  you  for  a 
long  and  happy  life  partnership." 

At  that  moment  she  saw  a  thin  streak  of  water  trickling 
in  through  the  crack  under  the  door.  This  was  too  much 
for  her.  She  threw  up  her  arms  in  despair.  "I  can't!" 
she  cried.  "Let  me  go!  I  can't  stay  shut  in  here  waiting 
for  death.  I  love  you,  but  I  can't  do  it!" 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  223 

She  rushed  out  just  as  the  ship  heeled  over  before  going 
down. 


Young  Mrs.  Gordon  was  lying  in  the  water,  the  steamer 
had  sunk,  her  children  were  lost,  and  she  herself  had  been 
deep  under  the  sea.  She  had  then  come  to  the  surface  for 
the  third  time  and  knew  that  in  another  moment  she  would 
be  sinking  again,  and  that  that  would  mean  death. 

Then  her  mind  no  longer  dwelt  upon  her  husband  or 
children,  or  upon  anything  else  of  this  earth.  She  thought 
only  of  lifting  up  her  soul  to  God.  And  her  soul  rose  like  a 
liberated  prisoner.  Her  spirit,  rejoicing  in  the  thought 
of  casting  off  the  heavy  shackles  of  human  existence, 
jubilantly  prepared  to  ascend  to  its  real  home.  "Is  death 
so  easy?"  she  mused. 

As  that  thought  came  to  her  the  medley  of  confusing 
noises  around  her — the  surging  of  the  waves,  the  murmur 
of  the  wind,  the  shrieks  of  the  drowning,  and  the  noises 
made  by  the  colliding  of  the  various  objects  that  were 
drifting  around  on  the  water — all  seemed  to  resolve  them- 
selves into  words  in  the  same  way  as  shapeless  clouds  some- 
times form  themselves  into  pictures.  And  this  was  what 
she  heard: 

"It  is  a  fact  that  death  is  easy,  but  to  live,  that  is  the 
difficult  thing!" 

"Ah,  so  it  is!"  she  thought,  and  wondered  what  was 
needed  to  make  living  as  easy  as  dying. 

Round  about  her  the  shipwrecked  people  fought  and 


224  JERUSALEM 

struggled  for  the  floating  wreckage  and  the  overturned 
boats.  But  amid  the  mad  cries  and  curses,  again  the  noises 
resolved  themselves  into  clear  and  powerful  words: 

"That  which  is  needed  to  make  life  as  easy  as  death  is 
UNITY,  UNITY,  UNITY." 

It  seemed  to  her  that  the  Lord  of  all  the  earth  had  con- 
verted these  noises  into  a  speaking  tube,  through  which 
He  himself  had  answered  her. 

While  the  words  that  had  been  spoken  were  still  ringing 
in  her  ears,  she  was  rescued.  She  had  been  drawn  up  into  a 
small  boat  in  which  there  were  only  three  persons  besides 
herself — a  brawny  old  sailor  dressed  in  his  best,  an  elderly 
woman  with  round,  owlish  eyes,  and  a  poor  little  heart- 
broken boy,  who  had  on  nothing  but  a  torn  shirt. 


Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  a  Norwegian 
ship  sailed  along  the  great  banks  of  Newfoundland  in  the 
direction  of  the  fishing  grounds.  The  sky  was  clear,  and 
the  sea  was  like  a  mirror.  The  vessel  could  make  but  little 
headway.  All  the  sails  were  set  so  as  to  catch  the  last 
breaths  of  the  dying  breeze. 

The  sea  looked  very  beautiful.  It  was  a  clear  blue  and 
smooth  as  glass,  but  where  the  faintest  breeze  passed  over 
it,  it  was  a  silvery  white. 

When  the  afternoon  stillness  had  continued  for  a  while, 
the  ship's  crew  sighted  a  dark  object  floating  on  the  water. 
Gradually  it  came  nearer,  and  soon  they  discovered  that  it 
was  a  human  body.  As  it  was  being  carried  by  the  current 


LOSS  OF  "L'UNIVERS"  225 

past  the  ship,  they  could  tell  by  the  clothing  that  it  was 
the  body  of  a  sailor.  It  was  lying  on  its  back,  with  eyes 
wide  open,  and  with  a  look  of  peace  on  its  face.  Evidently 
the  body  had  not  been  long  enough  in  the  water  to  become 
disfigured.  It  was  as  if  the  sailor  were  complacently  let- 
ting himself  be  rocked  by  the  tiny  rippling  wavelets. 

When  the  sailors  turned  their  gaze  in  the  opposite 
direction,  they  let  out  a  cry.  Before  they  could  turn  their 
faces,  another  body  appeared  on  the  surface  close  to  the 
bow  of  the  boat.  They  came  near  passing  over  it,  but  at 
the  last  moment  it  was  washed  away  by  the  swell.  Now 
they  all  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  ship  and  looked  down. 
This  time  they  saw  the  body  of  a  child,  a  daintily  dressed 
little  girl.  "Dear,  dear!"  said  the  sailors,  drying  their 
eyes.  "The  poor  little  kiddie ! " 

As  the  body  of  the  little  girl  drifted  past  it  seemed  as  \\ 
the  child  were  looking  up  at  them.  And  there  was  such  a 
serious  expression  in  its  wistful  eyes — as  if  it  were  out  upon 
some  very  urgent  errand.  Immediately  after,  one  of  the 
sailors  shouted  that  he  saw  another  body,  and  the  same 
thing  was  said  by  one  who  was  looking  in  an  opposite 
direction.  All  at  once  they  saw  five  bodies,  they  saw 
ten,  and  then  there  were  so  many  they  could  not  count 
them. 

The  ship  moved  slowly  on  among  all  these  dead  people, 
who  surrounded  the  vessel  as  if  they  wanted  something. 
Some  came  floating  in  large  groups;  they  looked  like  drift- 
wood that  had  been  carried  away  from  land;  but  they  were 
just  a  mass  of  dead  bodies. 


226  JERUSALEM 

The  sailors  stood  aghast,  afraid  to  move.  They  could 
hardly  believe  that  what  they  saw  was  real.  All  at  once 
they  seemed  to  see  an  island  rising  up  out  of  the  sea.  From 
a  distance  it  looked  like  land,  but,  on  coming  nearer,  they 
saw  hundreds  of  bodies  floating  close  together,  and  sur- 
rounding the  vessel  on  all  sides.  They  moved  with  the  ship, 
as  if  wanting  to  make  the  voyage  across  the  water  in  its 
company.  Then  the  skipper  turned  the  rudder,  so  as  to 
coax  a  little  wind  into  the  sails;  but  it  did  not  help  much. 
The  sails  hung  limp,  and  the  dead  bodies  continued  to 
follow. 

The  sailors  turned  ashen,  and  silence  fell  upon  them. 
The  ship  had  so  little  headway  that  she  could  not  seem  to 
get  clear  of  the  dead.  They  were  fearful  lest  it  should  go 
on  like  this  the  whole  night.  Then  a  Swedish  seaman 
stood  up  in  the  bow  and  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
Thereupon,  he  began  to  sing  a  hymn.  When  he  had  got 
half  through  the  hymn  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  evening 
breeze  came  along  and  carried  the  ship  away  from  the 
region  of  the  dead. 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER 

A  OLD  woman  came  out  from  her  little  log  cabin  in 
the  woods.  Although  it  was  only  a  week  day, 
she  was  dressed  in  her  best,  as  if  for  church. 
After  locking  her  door  she  put  the  key  in  its  usual  place, 
under  the  stoop. 

When  the  old  woman  had  gone  a  few  paces,  she  turned 
round  to  look  at  her  cabin,  which  appeared  very  small  and 
very  gray  under  the  shadow  of  the  towering  snow-clad 
fir  trees.  She  glanced  at  her  humble  home  with  an  af- 
fectionate gaze.  "Many  a  happy  day  have  I  spent  in  that 
little  old  hut!"  she  mused  solemnly.  "Ah  me!  The  Lord 
giveth,  and  the  Lord  taketh  away." 

Then  she  went  on  her  way,  down  the  forest  road.  She 
was  very  old  and  exceeding  fragile,  but  she  was  one  of  those 
who  hold  themselves  erect  and  firm,  however  much  old  age 
may  try  to  bend  them.  She  had  a  sweet  face  and  soft 
white  hair.  She  looked  so  mild  and  gentle  that  it  was 
surprising  to  hear  her  speak  with  a  voice  that  was  as  stri- 
dent and  solemn  as  that  of  some  old  evangelist. 

She  had  a  long  tramp  ahead  of  her,  for  she  was  going 
down  to  the  Ingmar  Farm  to  a  meeting  of  the  Hellgumists. 
Old  Eva  Gunnersdotter  was  one  of  the  most  zealous  con- 
verts to  Hellgum's  teachings.  "Ah,  those  were  glorious 
times,"  she  mumbled  to  herself  as  she  trudged  on,  "in  the 

229 


23o  JERUSALEM 

beginning  when  half  the  parish  had  gone  over  to  Hellgum! 
Who  would  have  thought  that  so  many  were  going  to  back- 
slide, and  that  after  five  years  there  would  be  hardly  more 
than  a  score  of  us  left — not  counting  the  children,  of 
course!" 

Her  thoughts  went  back  to  the  time  when  she,  who  for 
many  years  had  lived  in  solitude  in  the  heart  of  the  forest, 
forgotten  by  every  one,  all  at  once  had  found  a  lot  of 
brothers  and  sisters  who  came  to  her  in  her  loneliness,  who 
never  forgot  to  clear  a  path  to  her  cabin  after  a  big  snow- 
fall, and  who  always  kept  her  little  shed  well  filled  with  dry 
firewood — arid  all  without  her  having  to  ask  for  it.  She 
recalled  to  mind  the  time  when  Karin,  daughter  of  Ingmar, 
and  her  sisters,  and  many  more  of  the  best  people  in  the 
parish,  used  to  come  and  hold  love  feasts  in  her  little  gray 
cabin. 

"Alas,  that  so  many  should  have  abandoned  the  only 
true  way  of  salvation!"  she  sighed.  "Now  retribution 
will  come  upon  us.  Next  summer  we  must  all  perish  be- 
cause so  few  among  us  have  heard  the  call,  and  because 
those  who  have  heard  it  have  not  continued  steadfast." 

The  old  woman  then  fell  to  pondering  over  Hellgum's 
letters,  those  letters  which  the  Hellgumists  regarded  as 
Apostolic  writings  and  read  aloud  at  all  their  meetings,  as 
the  Bible  is  read  in  the  churches.  "There  was  a  time  when 
Hellgum  was  as  milk  and  honey  to  us,"  she  reflected. 
"Then  he  commanded  us  to  be  kind  and  tolerant  toward 
the  unconverted,  and  to  show  gentle  forbearance  toward 
those  who  had  fallen  away;  he  taught  the  rich  that  in  their 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  231 

works  of  charity  they  must  treat  the  just  and  the  unjust 
alike.  But  lately  he  has  been  as  wormwood  and  gall.  He 
writes  about  nothing  but  trials  and  punishments." 

The  old  woman  had  now  reached  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
from  where  she  could  look  down  over  the  village.  It  was 
a  lovely  day  in  February.  The  snow  had  spread  its  white 
purity  over  the  whole  district;  all  the  trees  were  deep  in 
their  winter  sleep,  and  not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred.  But 
she  was  thinking  that  all  this  beautiful  country,  wrapped  in 
peaceful  slumber,  would  soon  be  awakened  only  to  be 
consumed  by  a  rain  of  fire  and  brimstone.  Everything 
that  was  now  lying  under  a  cover  of  snow,  she  seemed  to  see 
enveloped  in  flame. 

"He  hasn't  put  it  into  plain  words,"  thought  the  old 
woman,  "but  he  keeps  writing  all  the  while  about  a  sore 
trial.  Mercy  me !  Who  could  wonder  at  it  if  this  parish 
were  to  be  punished  as  was  Sodom,  and  overthrown  like 
Babylon!" 

As  Eva  Gunnersdotter  wandered  through  the  village,  she 
could  not  look  up  at  a  single  house  without  picturing  to 
herself  how  the  coming  earthquake  would  shake  it  and 
crumble  it  into  dust  and  ashes.  And  when  she  met  people 
along  the  way,  she  thought  of  how  the  monsters  of  hell 
would  soon  hunt  and  devour  them. 

"Ah,  here  comes  the  schoolmaster's  Gertrude!"  she  re- 
marked to  herself  as  she  saw  a  pretty  young  girl  coming 
down  the  road.  "Her  eyes  sparkle  like  sunbeams  on  the 
snow.  She  feels  happy  now  because  she  expects  to  be 
married  in  the  fall  to  young  Ingmar  Ingmarsson.  I  see 


232  JERUSALEM 

she  has  a  bundle  of  thread  tucked  under  her  arm.  She  is 
going  to  weave  table  covers  and  bed  hangings  for  her  new 
home.  But  before  that  weaving  is  done,  destruction  will 
be  upon  us." 

The  old  woman  cast  dark  glances  about  her.  She  could 
see  that  the  village  had  grown  and  developed  into  an 
astonishing  thing  of  beauty,  but  she  thought  that  all  these 
pretty  white-and-yellow  houses,  with  their  fancy  gables 
and  their  big  bowed  windows,  would  collapse  the  same  as 
her  humble  gray  cabin,  where  moss  grew  in  the  cracks 
between  the  logs,  and  the  windows  were  only  holes  in  the 
wall.  When  she  reached  the  heart  of  the  town,  she  stopped 
short  and  struck  her  cane  hard  against  the  pavement.  A 
sudden  feeling  of  indignation  had  seized  her.  "Woe, 
woe!"  she  cried,  in  so  loud  a  voice  that  people  in  the  street 
paused  and  looked  round.  "Yea,  in  all  these  houses  live 
such  as  have  rejected  the  Gospel  of  Christ  and  cling  to  the 
enemy's  teaching.  Why  didn't  they  listen  to  the  call  and 
turn  away  from  their  sins?  On  their  account  we  must  all 
perish.  God's  hand  strikes  heavily.  It  strikes  both  the 
just  and  the  unjust." 

When  she  had  crossed  the  river  she  was  overtaken  by 
some  of  the  other  Hellgumists.  They  were  Corporal  Felt 
and  Bullet  Gunner  and  his  wife,  Brita.  Shortly  afterward, 
they  were  joined  by  Hok  Matts  Ericsson,  his  son  Gabriel, 
and  Gunhild,  the  daughter  of  Councilman  Clementsson. 

All  these  people  in  their  gayly  coloured  national  costumes 
made  a  pretty  picture  walking  along  the  snow-covered 
road.  But  to  the  mind  of  Eva  Gunnersdotter,  they  were 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  233 

only  doomed  prisoners  being  led  to  the  place  of  execution, 
like  cattle  driven  to  slaughter. 

The  Hellgumists  looked  quite  dejected.  They  walked 
along,  their  eyes  on  the  ground,  as  if  weighed  down  by  a 
terrible  load  of  discouragement.  They  had  all  expected 
that  the  Celestial  Kingdom  would  suddenly  spread  over 
the  whole  earth,  and  that  they  would  live  to  see  the  day 
when  the  New  Jerusalem  should  come  down  from  the 
clouds  of  heaven.  But  now  that  they  had  become  so  few 
in  number,  and  could  not  help  seeing  that  theirs  was  a 
forlorn  hope,  it  was  as  if  something  within  them  had 
snapped.  They  moved  slowly  and  with  dragging  steps. 
Now  and  then  a  sigh  would  escape  them,  but  they  seemed 
to  have  nothing  to  say  to  each  other.  For  this  had  been  a 
matter  of  supreme  earnest  with  them.  They  had  staked 
their  all  upon  it,  and  had  lost. 

"Why  do  they  look  so  down-in-the-mouth ? "  wondered 
the  old  woman.  "They  don't  seem  to  believe  the  worst, 
and  don't  want  to  understand  what  Hellgum  writes.  I've 
tried  to  explain  his  words  to  them,  but  they  won't  even 
listen  to  me.  Alas!  those  who  live  on  the  lowlands,  under 
an  open  sky,  can  never  understand  what  it  is  to  be  afraid. 
They  don't  think  the  same  thoughts  as  do  those  of  us  who 
live  in  the  solitude  of  the  dark  forest." 

She  could  see  that  the  Hellgumists  were  uneasy  because 
Halvor  had  called  them  together  on  a  week  day.  They 
feared  that  he  was  going  to  tell  them  of  more  desertions 
from  their  ranks.  They  glanced  anxiously  at  one  another, 
with  a  look  of  distrust  in  their  eyes  that  seemed  to 


234  JERUSALEM 

say:  "How  long  will  you  hold  out?  And  you — and 
you?" 

"We  might  as  well  stop  right  now,"  they  thought,  "and 
break  up  the  Society  at  once.  After  all,  sudden  death 
would  be  easier  than  slowly  wasting  away." 

Alas!  that  this  little  community  with  its  gospel  of  peace, 
this  blissful  life  of  unity  and  brotherly  love  which  had 
meant  so  much  to  all  of  them,  that  this  should  now  be 
doomed. 

As  these  disheartened  people  walked  along  toward  the 
farm  the  sparkling  winter  sun  rolled  merrily  on  across  the 
blue  sky.  From  the  glistening  snow  rose  a  refreshing  cool- 
ness, which  should  have  put  life  and  courage  into  them; 
while  from  the  fir-clad  hills  encircling  the  parish,  there  fell 
a  soothing  peace  and  stillness. 

At  last  they  were  at  the  Ingmar  Farm. 

In  the  living-room  of  the  farmhouse,  close  to  the  ceiling, 
hung  an  old  picture  which  had  been  painted  by  some  local 
artist  a  hundred  years  before  their  time.  It  represented  a 
city  surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  above  which  could  be  seen 
the  roofs  and  gables  of  many  buildings,  some  of  which 
were  red  farmhouses  with  turf  roofs.  Others  were  white 
manor  houses  with  slate  roofs.  Others,  again,  showed 
massive  copper-plated  towers,  after  the  manner  of  the 
Kistine  Church  at  Falun.  Outside  the  city  wall  were 
promenading  gentlemen,  in  kneebreeches  and  buckled 
shoes,  who  carried  Bengal  canes.  A  coach  was  seen  driv- 
ing out  of  the  gateway  of  the  town,  in  which  were  seated 
ladies  in  powdered  wigs  and  wearing  Watteau  hats.  Be- 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  235 

yond  the  wall  were  trees,  with  a  profusion  of  dark  green 
foliage;  and  on  the  ground,  between  patches  of  tall,  wav- 
ing grass,  ran  little  shimmering  brooklets.  At  the  bottom 
of  the  picture  was  painted  in  large,  ornate  letters:  "This 
is  God's  Holy  City  Jerusalem." 

The  old  canvas  being  hung  like  that,  so  close  to  the 
ceiling,  it  seldom  attracted  any  notice.  Most  of  the  people 
who  visited  the  Ingmar  Farm  did  not  even  know  of  its 
being  there. 

But  that  day  it  was  enframed  in  a  wreath  of  green 
whortleberry  twigs,  so  that  it  instantly  caught  the  eye  of 
the  caller.  Eva  Gunnersdotter  saw  it  at  once,  and  re- 
marked under  her  breath:  "Aha!  Now  the  folks  on  the 
Ingmar  Farm  know  that  we  must  perish.  That's  why 
they  want  us  to  turn  our  eyes  toward  the  Heavenly 
City." 

Karin  and  Halvor  came  forward  to  greet  her,  looking 
even  more  gloomy  and  low  spirited  than  the  other  Hell- 
gumists.  "  It's  plain  they  know  now  that  the  end  is  near," 
she  thought. 

Eva  Gunnersdotter,  being  the  oldest  person  present,  was 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  long  table.  In  front  of  her  lay  an 
opened  letter,  with  American  stamps  on  the  envelope. 

"Another  letter  has  come  from  our  dear  brother  Hell- 
gum,"  said  Halvor.  "This  is  why  I  have  called  the 
brothers  and  sisters  together." 

"I  gather  that  you  must  think  this  a  very  important 
document,  Halvor,"  said  Bullet  Gunner,  thoughtfully. 

"I  do,"  replied   Halvor.     "Now  we  shall  learn  what 


236  JERUSALEM 

Hellgum  meant  when  he  wrote  in  his  last  letter  that  a  great 
trial  of  our  faith  was  before  us." 

"I  don't  think  that  any  of  us  will  be  afraid  to  suffer  in 
the  Lord's  cause,"  Gunner  assured  him. 

All  the  Hellgumists  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  there  was  a 
long  wait  before  the  last  one  finally  made  his  appearance. 
Old  Eva  Gunnersdotter,  with  her  far-sighted  eyes,  mean- 
while sat  gazing  at  Hellgum's  letter.  She  was  reminded  of 
the  letter  with  the  seven  seals,  in  Revelation,  and  fancied 
that  the  instant  any  human  hand  should  touch  that  letter, 
the  Angel  of  Destruction  would  come  flying  down  from 
Heaven. 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  glanced  up  at  the  Jerusalem  pic- 
ture. "Yes,  yes,"  she  mumbled,  "of  course  I  want  to  go  to 
that  city  whose  gates  are  of  gold  and  whose  walls  are  of 
crystal!"  And  she  began  reading  to  herself:  '"And  the 
foundations  of  the  wall  of  the  city  were  garnished  with  all 
manner  of  precious  stones.  The  first  foundation  was  jas- 
per; the  second,  sapphire;  the  third,  a  chalcedony;  the 
fourth,  an  emerald;  the  fifth,  sardonyx;  the  sixth,  sardius; 
the  seventh,  chrysolite;  the  eighth,  beryl;  the  ninth,  a 
topaz;  the  tenth,  a  chrysoprasus;  the  eleventh,  a  jacinth; 
the  twelfth,  an  amethyst." 

The  old  woman  was  so  deep  in  her  precious  Book  of 
Revelation  that  she  started  as  if  she  had  been  caught 
napping  when  Halvor  went  over  to  that  end  of  the  table 
where  the  letter  lay. 

"We  will  open  our  meeting  with  a  hymn,"  Halvor 
announced.  "Let  us  all  join  in  singing  number  two 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  237 

hundred  and  forty-four."  And  the  Hellgumists  sang  in 
unison,  "Jerusalem,  my  happy  home." 

Eva  Gunnersdotter  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  because  the 
dreaded  moment  had  been  put  off  for  a  little.  "Alack-a- 
day!  that  a  doddering  old  woman  like  me  should  be  so 
afraid  to  die,"  she  thought,  half  ashamed  of  her  weakness. 

At  the  close  of  the  hymn  Halvor  took  up  the  letter  and 
began  unfolding  it.  Whereupon  the  Spirit  moved  Eva 
Gunnersdotter  to  arise  and  offer  up  a  lengthy  prayer  for 
grace  to  receive  in  a  proper  spirit  the  message  contained 
therein.  Halvor,  with  the  letter  in  his  hand,  stood  quietly 
waiting  till  she  had  finished.  Then  he  began  reading  it  in 
a  tone  he  might  have  used  had  he  been  delivering  a  sermon: 

"My  dear  brothers  and  sisters,  peace  be  with  you. 

"Hitherto  I  had  thought  that  I  and  you,  who  have 
embraced  my  teaching,  were  alone  in  this  our  faith.  But, 
praise  be  to  God !  here  in  Chicago  we  have  found  brethren 
who  are  likeminded,  who  think  and  act  in  accordance  with 
the  principles. 

"For  be  it  known  unto  you  that  here,  in  Chicago,  there 
lived  in  the  early  eighties  a  man  by  the  name  of  Edward 
Gordon.  He  and  his  wife  were  God-fearing  people.  They 
were  sorely  grieved  at  seeing  so  much  distress  in  the  world, 
and  prayed  God  that  grace  might  be  given  them  to  help 
the  sorrowing  ones. 

"It  so  happened  that  the  wife  of  Edward  Gordon  had 
to  make  a  long  voyage  across  the  sea,  where  she  suffered 
shipwreck  and  was  cast  upon  the  waters.  When  she 
found  herself  in  the  most  extreme  peril,  the  Voice  of  God 


238  JERUSALEM 

spoke  to  her.     And  the  Voice  of  God  commanded  her  to 
teach  mankind  to  live  in  unity. 

"And  the  woman  was  saved  from  the  sea  and  the  peril  of 
death,  and  she  returned  to  her  husband  and  told  him  about 
the  message  from  God.  '  This  is  a  great  command  our 
Lord  hath  given  unto  us — that  we  should  live  in  unity— 
and  we  must  follow  it.  So  great  is  this  message  that  in  all 
the  world  there  is  but  one  spot  worthy  of  receiving  it.  Let 
us,  therefore,  gather  our  friends  together  and  go  with  them 
to  Jerusalem,  that  we  may  proclaim  God's  holy  command- 
ment from  the  Mount  of  Zion.' 

"Then  Edward  Gordon  and  his  wife,  together  with 
thirty  others  who  wanted  to  obey  the  Lord's  last  holy 
commandment,  set  out  for  Jerusalem,  where  all  of  them 
are  now  living  in  concord  under  one  roof.  They  share  with 
one  another  all  their  worldly  goods,  and  serve  one  another^ 
each  protecting  the  other's  welfare. 

"And  they  have  taken  into  their  home  the  children  of  the 
poor,  and  they  nurse  the  sick,  they  care  for  the  aged,  and 
succour  all  who  appeal  to  them  for  aid,  without  expecting 
either  money  or  gifts  in  return. 

"But  they  do  not  preach  in  the  churches  or  on  street 
corners,  for  they  say,  'It  is  our  works  that  shall  speak  for 
us.' 

"  But  the  people  who  heard  of  their  way  of  living  said  of 
them:  'They  must  be  fools  and  fanatics.'  And  those  who 
decried  them  the  loudest  were  the  Christians  who  had 
come  to  Palestine  to  convert  Jews  and  Mohammedans,  by 
preaching  and  teaching.  And  they  said:  'What  sort  of 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  239 

persons  are  these  who  do  not  preach?  No  doubt  they 
have  come  hither  to  lead  an  evil  life  and  to  indulge  their 
sinful  lusts  among  the  heathen.' 

"And  they  raised  a  cry  against  these  good  people  that 
travelled  across  the  seas  all  the  way  to  their  own  country. 
But  amongst  those  who  had  settled  in  Jerusalem  there  was 
a  rich  widow,  with  her  two  half-grown  children.  She  had 
left  a  brother  in  her  native  land,  to  whom  every  one  was 
saying,  *  How  can  you  allow  your  sister  to  live  among  those 
dreadful  people,  who  are  so  loose  lived  ?  They  are  nothing 
but  idlers  who  live  upon  her  bounty.'  So  the  brother  be- 
gan legal  proceedings  against  the  sister,  in  order  to  compel 
her  to  send  her  children  back  to  America  to  be  reared  there. 

"And  on  account  of  these  proceedings,  the  widow,  with 
her  children,  returned  to  Chicago,  accompanied  by  Edward 
Gordon  and  his  wife.  At  that  time  they  had  been  living  in 
Jerusalem  fourteen  years. 

"When  they  came  back  from  that  far  country,  the  news- 
papers had  much  to  say  of  them;  and  some  called  them 
lunatics  and  some  said  they  were  impostors." 

When  Halvor  had  read  thus  far,  he  paused  a  moment, 
and  presently  repeated  the  substance  of  what  he  had  read 
in  his  own  words,  so  that  everybody  would  understand  it. 
After  which,  he  went  on  reading: 

"But  there  is  in  Chicago  a  home  of  which  you  have 
heard.  And  the  occupants  of  this  home  are  people  who 
try  to  serve  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  who  share  all  things 
in  common,  and  watch  over  each  other's  lives. 

"We  who  live  in  this  home  read  something  in  a  news- 


240  JERUSALEM 

paper  about  these  'lunatics'  who  had  come  back  from 
Jerusalem,  and  said  among  ourselves,  'These  people  are  of 
our  faith;  they  are  banded  together  to  work  for  righteous- 
ness, the  same  as  ourselves.  We  would  like  to  meet  these 
persons  who  share  our  ideals.' 

"And  we  wrote  and  asked  them  to  come  to  see  us,  and 
those  who  had  come  back  from  Jerusalem  accepted  the  in- 
vitation and  called;  and  we  compared  our  teachings  with 
theirs,  and  found  that  our  principles  of  faith  were  the  same. 
'It  is  by  the  grace  of  God  that  we  have  found  each  other/ 
we  said. 

"They  told  us  of  the  glories  of  the  Holy  City,  that  city 
which  lies  resplendent  on  its  white  mountain,  and  we 
deemed  them  fortunate  in  that  they  had  been  privileged  to 
tread  the  paths  our  Saviour  had  trod. 

"Then  one  of  our  own  brethren  said:  'Why  shouldn't 
we  go  along  with  you  to  Jerusalem?' 

"They  answered:  'You  must  not  accompany  us  thither, 
for  God's  Holy  City  is  full  of  strife  and  dissension,  of  want 
and  sickness,  of  hate  and  poverty.' 

"Instantly  another  of  our  brethren  cried:  'Mayhap  God 
has  sent  you  to  us  because  it  is  His  meaning  that  we  shall 
go  with  you  to  that  far  country,  to  help  you  fight  all  this  ? ' 

"Then  one  and  all  of  us  heard  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  in 
our  hearts  say,  'Yea,  this  is  My  will!' 

"Then  we  asked  them  whether  they  would  be  willing  to 
receive  us  into  their  fold,  although  we  were  poor  and  un- 
lettered. And  they  answered  that  they  would. 

"Then  we  determined  to  become  brethren  in  the  fullest 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  241 

sense.  And  they  accepted  our  faith,  and  we  theirs — and 
all  the  while  the  Spirit  was  upon  us,  and  we  were  filled  with 
a  great  gladness.  And  we  said:  'Now  we  know  that 
God  loves  us,  since  He  sends  us  to  that  land  where  once  He 
sent  His  own  Son.  And  now  we  know  that  our  teaching  is 
the  right  teaching,  inasmuch  as  God  wants  it  proclaimed 
from  his  holy  mountain  Zion/ 

"And  then  a  third  member  of  our  own  household  said: 
'And  there  are  our  brothers  and  sisters  at  home  in  Sweden/ 
So  we  told  the  brethren  from  Jerusalem  that  there  were 
more  of  us  than  they  saw  here;  that  we  also  had  some 
brothers  and  sisters  in  Sweden.  We  said:  'They  are  being 
sorely  tried  in  their  fight  for  righteousness,  many  of  them 
have  fallen  away,  and  the  few  who  have  remained  steadfast 
are  obliged  to  live  among  unbelievers/ 

"Then  the  travellers  from  Jerusalem  answered:  'Let 
your  brothers  and  sisters  in  Sweden  follow  us  to  Jerusalem, 
and  share  our  holy  work/ 

"At  first  we  were  pleased  at  the  thought  of  your  follow- 
ing us,  and  living  with  us  at  Jerusalem,  in  peace  and  har- 
mony. But  afterward  we  began  to  feel  troubled,  and  said : 
'They  will  never  leave  their  fine  farms  and  old  occupa- 
tions/ 

"And  the  Jerusalem  travellers  answered:  'Fields  and 
meadows  we  cannot  offer  them,  but  they  will  be  allowed  to 
wander  along  the  pathways  where  Jesus'  feet  have  trod.' 

"But  we  were  still  doubtful  and  said  to  them,  'They 
will  never  journey  to  a  strange  land  where  no  one  under- 
stands their  speech/ 


242  JERUSALEM 

"And  the  travellers  from  Jerusalem  answered :  'They will 
understand  what  the  stones  of  Palestine  have  to  tell  them 
about  their  Saviour.' 

"We  said:  'They  will  never  divide  their  property  with 
strangers  and  become  poor  as  beggars;  nor  will  they  re- 
nounce their  authority,  for  they  are  the  leading  people  of 
their  own  parish.' 

"The  travellers  from  Jerusalem  answered:  'We  have 
neither  power  nor  worldly  possessions  to  offer  them;  but 
we  invite  them  to  become  participants  in  the  sufferings  of 
Christ  their  Redeemer.' 

"When  that  was  said,  we  were  again  filled  with  gladness, 
and  felt  that  you  would  come.  And  now,  my  dear  brothers 
and  sisters,  when  you  have  read  this,  do  not  talk  it  over 
among  yourselves,  but  be  still  and  listen.  And  whatever 
the  Spirit  bids  you  do,  that  do." 

Halvor  folded  the  letter,  saying,  "Now  we  must  do  as 
Hellgum  writes;  we  must  be  still,  and  listen." 

There  was  a  long  silence  in  the  living-room  at  the  Ingmar 
Farm. 

Old  Eva  Gunnersdotter  was  as  silent  as  were  the  others, 
waiting  for  the  Voice  of  God  to  speak  to  her.  She  in-, 
terpreted  it  all  in  her  own  way.  "Why,  of  course,"  she 
thought,  "Hellgum  wants  us  to  go  to  Jerusalem  so  that  we 
may  escape  the  great  destruction.  The  Lord  would  save 
us  from  the  flood  of  brimstone,  and  preserve  us  from  the 
rain  of  fire;  and  those  of  us  who  are  righteous  will  hear  the 
Voice  of  God  warning  us  to  flee  the  wrath  to  come." 

It  never  for  a  moment  occurred  to  the  old  woman  that  it 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  243 

could  be  a  sacrifice  for  any  one  to  leave  his  home  and  his 
native  land,  when  it  came  to  a  question  of  this  sort.  It 
never  entered  her  mind  that  any  one  could  doubt  the  wis- 
dom of  leaving  his  native  woodlands,  his  smiling  river,  and 
his  fertile  fields.  Some  of  the  Hellgumists  thought  with 
fear  and  trepidation  of  their  having  to  change  their  manner 
of  living,  of  renouncing  fatherland,  parents,  friends,  and 
relatives;  but  not  she.  To  her  it  simply  meant  that  God 
wanted  to  spare  them  as  He  had  once  spared  Noah  and  Lot. 
Were  they  not  being  called  to  a  life  of  supernal  glory  in 
God's  Holy  City  ?  It  was  to  her  as  if  Hellgum  had  written 
that  they  would  be  bodily  taken  up  into  heaven,  like  the 
prophet  Elijah. 

They  were  all  sitting  with  closed  eyes,  deep  in  meditation. 
Some  were  suffering  such  intense  mental  agony  that  cold 
sweat  broke  out  on  their  foreheads.  "Ah,  this  is  indeed 
the  trial  which  Hellgum  foretold!"  they  sighed. 

The  sun  was  at  the  horizon,  and  shot  its  piercing  rays 
into  the  room.  The  crimson  glow  from  the  setting  sun 
cast  a  blood-red  glare  upon  the  many  blanched  faces. 
Finally  Martha  Ingmarsson,  the  wife  of  Ljung  Bjorn 
Olofsson,  slipped  down  from  her  chair  on  to  her  knees. 
Then,  one  after  another,  they  all  went  down  on  their  knees. 
All  at  once  several  of  them  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  a 
smile  lighted  up  their  faces. 

Then  Karin,  daughter  of  Ingmar,  said  in  a  tone  of 
wonderment :  "  I  hear  God's  voice  calling  me ! " 

Gunhild,  the  daughter  of  Councillor  Clementsson,  lifted 
up  her  hands  in  ecstasy,  and  tears  streamed  down  her  face. 


244  JERUSALEM 

"I,    too,    am    going,'*    she  cried.      "God's   voice    calls 
me." 

Whereupon  Krister  Larsson  and  his  wife  said,  almost  in 
the  same  breath :  "  It  cries  into  my  ear  that  I  must  go.  I 
can  hear  God's  voice  calling  me!" 

The  call  came  to  one  after  another,  and  with  it  all 
anguish  of  mind  and  all  feeling  of  regret  vanished.  A  great 
sense  of  joy  had  come  to  them.  They  thought  no  more  of 
their  farms  or  their  relatives;  they  were  thinking  only  of 
how  their  little  colony  would  branch  out  and  blossom  anew, 
and  of  the  wonder  of  having  been  called  to  the  Holy 
City. 

The  call  had  now  come  to  most  of  them.  But  it  had 
not  yet  reached  Halvor  Halvorsson;  he  was  wrestling  in 
anguished  prayer,  thinking  God  would  not  call  him  as  He 
had  called  the  others.  "He  sees  that  I  love  my  fields  and 
meadows  more  than  His  word,"  he  said  to  himself.  "I  am 
unworthy." 

Karin  then  went  up  to  Halvor  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
brow.  "You  must  be  still,  Halvor.  and  listen  in  silence." 

Halvor  wrung  his  hands  so  hard  that  the  joints  of  his 
fingers  cracked.  "  Perhaps  God  does  not  deem  me  worthy 
to  go,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  Halvor,  you  will  be  let  go,  but  you  must  be  still," 
said  Karin.  She  knelt  down  beside  him  and  put  her  arm 
around  him.  "Now  listen  quietly,  Halvor,  and  without 
fear." 

In  a  few  moments  the  tense  look  was  gone  from  his  face. 
"I  hear — I  hear  something  far,  far  away,"  he  whispered. 


HELLGUM'S  LETTER  245 

"It  is  the  harps  of  angels  announcing  the  presence  of  the 
Lord,"  said  the  wife.  "Be  quite  still  now,  Halvor." 
Then  she  nestled  very  close  to  him — something  she  had 
never  done  before  in  the  presence  of  others. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  clapping  his  hands.  "Now  I  have 
heard  it.  It  spoke  so  loudly  that  it  was  as  thunder  in  my 
ears.  'You  shall  go  to  my  Holy  City,  Jerusalem/  it  said. 
Have  you  all  heard  it  in  the  same  way?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  they  cried,  "we  have  all  heard  it." 

But  now  old  Eva  Gunnersdotter  began  to  wail.  "I 
have  heard  nothing.  I  can't  go  along  with  you.  I'm  like 
Lot's  wife,  and  may  not  flee  the  wrath  to  come,  but  must  be 
left  behind.  Here  I  must  stay  and  be  turned  into  a  pillar 
of  salt." 

She  wept  from  despair,  and  the  Hellgumists  all  gathered 
round  to  pray  with  her.  Still  she  heard  nothing.  And 
her  despair  became  a  thing  of  terror.  "I  can't  hear  any- 
thing!" she  groaned.  "But  you've  got  to  take  me  along. 
You  shan't  leave  me  to  perish  in  the  lake  of  fire ! " 

"You  must  wait,  Eva,"  said  the  Hellgumists.  "The 
call  may  come.  It  will  surely  come,  either  to-night  or  in 
the  morning." 

"You  don't  answer  me,"  cried  the  old  woman,  "you 
don't  tell  what  I  want  to  know.  Maybe  you  don't  intend 
to  take  me  along  if  no  call  comes  to  me!" 

"It  will  come,  it  will  come!"  the  Hellgumists  shouted. 

"You  don't  answer  me!"  screamed  the  old  woman  in  a 
frenzy. 

"Dear  Eva,  we  can't  take  you  along  if  God  doesn't  call 


246  JERUSALEM 

you ! "  the  Hellgumists  protested.  "  But  the  call  will  come, 
never  fear." 

Then  the  old  dame  suddenly  rose  from  her  kneeling 
attitude,  straightened  her  rickety  old  body,  and  brought 
her  cane  down  on  the  floor  with  a  thud.  "You  people 
mean  to  go  away  and  leave  me  to  perish!"  she  thundered. 
"Yes,  yes,  yes,  you  mean  to  go  and  let  me  perish!"  She 
had  become  furiously  angry,  and  once  more  they  saw  before 
them  Eva  Gunnersdotter  as  she  had  been  in  her  younger 
days — strong  and  passionate  and  fiery. 

"  I  want  nothing  more  to  do  with  you ! "  she  shrieked.  "  I 
don't  want  to  be  saved  by  you.  Fie  upon  you!  You 
would  abandon  wife  and  children,  father  and  mother,  to 
save  yourselves.  Fie!  You're  a  parcel  of  idiots  to  be 
leaving  your  good  farms.  You're  a  lot  of  misguided  fools 
running  after  false  prophets,  that's  what  you  are!  It's 
upon  you  that  fire  and  brimstone  will  rain.  It  is  you  who 
must  perish.  But  we  who  remain  at  home,  we  shall  live." 


THE  BIG  LOG 


THE  BIG  LOG 

A  DUSK,  on  this  same  beautiful  February  day,  two 
young  lovers  stood  talking  together  in  the  road. 
The  youth  had  just  driven  down  from  the  forest 
with  a  big  log,  which  was  so  heavy  that  the  horse  could 
hardly  pull  it.     All  the  same  he  had  driven  in  a  roundabout 
way  so  that  the  log  might  be  hauled  through  the  village 
and  past  the  big  white  schoolhouse. 

The  horse  had  been  halted  in  front  of  the  school,  and  a 
young  woman  had  come  out  to  have  a  look  at  the  log. 
She  couldn'  t  seem  to  say  enough  in  praise  of  it — how 
long  and  thick  it  was,  and  how  straight,  and  what  a 
lovely  tan  bark  it  had,  and  how  firm  the  wood  was,  and 
how  flawless ! 

The  young  man  then  told  her  very  impressively  that  it 
had  been  grown  on  a  moor  far  north  of  Olafs  Peak,  and 
when  he  had  felled  it,  and  how  long  it  had  been  lying  in  the 
forest  to  dry  out.  He  told  her  exactly  how  many  inches  it 
measured,  both  in  circumference  and  diameter. 

"But,  Ingmar,"  she  said,  "it  is  only  the  first!" 

Pleased  as  she  was,  the  thought  that  Ingmar  had  been 
five  years  getting  down  the  first  bit  of  timber  toward  the 
building  of  their  new  home  made  her  feel  uneasy.  But 
Ingmar  seemed  to  think  that  all  difficulties  had  now  been 
met. 

249 


250  JERUSALEM 

"Just  you  wait,  Gertrude!"  he  said.  "If  I  can  only  get 
the  timber  hauled  while  the  roads  are  passable,  we'll  soon 
have  the  house  up." 

It  was  turning  bitterly  cold.  The  horse  stood  there  all 
of  a  shiver,  shaking  its  head  and  stamping  its  hoofs,  its 
mane  and  forelock  white  with  hoar  frost.  But  the  youth 
and  the  maid  did  not  feel  the  cold.  They  kept  themselves 
warm  by  building  their  house,  in  imagination,  from  cellar 
to  attic.  When  they  had  got  the  house  done,  they  set 
about  to  furnish  it. 

"We'll  put  the  sofa  over  against  the  long  wall  here  in  the 
living-room,"  Ingmar  decided. 

"But  I  don't  know  that  we've  got  any  sofa,"  said 
Gertrude. 

The  young  man  bit  his  lip.  He  had  not  meant  to  tell 
her,  until  some  time  later,  that  he  had  a  sofa  in  readiness 
at  the  cabinetmaker's  shop;  but  now  he  had  unwittingly 
let  out  the  secret. 

Then  Gertrude,  too,  came  out  with  something  which  she 
had  kept  from  him  for  five  years.  She  told  him  that  she 
had  made  up  hair  into  ornaments  and  had  woven  fancy 
ribbons  for  sale,  and  with  the  money  she  had  earned  in  this 
way  she  had  bought  all  sorts  of  household  things — pots  and 
pans,  platters  and  dishes,  sheets  and  pillow  slips,  table 
covers  and  rugs. 

Ingmar  was  so  pleased  over  what  Gertrude  had  accom- 
plished that  he  could  not  seem  to  commend  her  enough.  In 
the  middle  of  his  praises  he  broke  ofF  abruptly  and  gazed  at 
her  in  speechless  adoration.  He  thought  it  was  too  good 


THE  BIG  LOG  251 

to  be  true  that  anything  so  sweet  and  so  beautiful  would 
some  day  be  his  very  own. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  strangely?"  asked  the  girl. 

"I'm  just  thinking  that  the  best  of  it  all  is  that  you  will 
be  mine." 

Gertrude  could  not  say  anything,  but  she  ran  her  hand 
caressingly  over  the  big  log  which  was  to  form  a  portion  of 
the  wall  of  that  house  in  which  she  and  Ingmar  were  to 
live.  She  felt  that  protection  and  love  were  in  store  for  her, 
for  the  man  she  was  going  to  marry  was  good  and  wise, 
noble  and  faithful. 

Just  then  an  old  woman  passed  by.  She  walked  rapidly, 
muttering  to  herself,  as  if  terribly  incensed  over  something: 
"Aye,  aye,  their  happiness  shall  last  no  longer  than  from 
daybreak  to  rosy  dawn.  When  the  trial  comes,  their  faith 
will  be  broken  as  though  it  were  a  rope  spun  from  moss, 
and  their  lives  shall  be  as  a  long  darkness." 

"  Surely  she  can't  mean  us ! "  said  the  young  girl. 

"How  could  that  apply  to  us?"  laughed  the  young  man. 


THE  INGMAR  FARM 


THE  INGMAR  FARM 

IT  WAS  the  day  after  the  meeting  of  the  Hell- 
gumists,  and  a  Saturday.  A  blizzard  was  raging. 
The  pastor,  who  had  been  called  to  the  bedside  of  a 
sick  person  who  lived  way  up  at  the  north  end  of  the  great 
forest,  was  driving  homeward  late  in  the  evening  under 
great  difficulties.  His  horse  sank  deep  in  the  snowdrifts, 
and  the  sledge  was  time  after  time  on  the  point  of  being 
upset.  Both  the  pastor  and  his  hired  man  were  con- 
tinually getting  out  to  kick  away  the  snow  for  a  path. 
Happily  it  was  not  very  dark.  The  moon  came  rolling 
out  from  behind  the  snow  clouds,  big  and  full,  shedding  its 
silvery  light  upon  the  ground.  Glancing  upward,  the 
pastor  noticed  that  the  air  was  thick  with  whirling  and 
flying  snowflakes. 

In  some  places  they  made  their  way  quite  easily.  There 
were  short  stretches  of  road  where  the  flying  snow  had  not 
settled,  and  others  where  the  snow  was  deep,  but  loose  and 
even.  The  really  troublesome  thing  was  trying  to  get 
over  the  ground  where  the  drifts  were  piled  so  high  that 
one  could  not  even  look  over  them,  and  where  they  were 
obliged  to  turn  from  the  road,  and  to  drive  across  fields  and 
hedges,  at  the  risk  of  being  dumped  into  a  ditch  or  having 
the  horse  spiked  on  a  fence  rail. 

Both  the  pastor  and  his  servant  spoke  with  much  con- 

2SS 


256  JERUSALEM 

cern  of  the  drift  which  always,  after  a  heavy  snow,  was 
banked  against  a  high  boarding  close  to  the  Ingmar  Farm. 
"If  we  can  only  clear  that  we  are  as  good  as  at  home," 
they  said. 

The  pastor  remembered  how  often  he  had  asked  Big 
Ingmar  to  remove  the  high  boarding  that  was  the  cause  of 
so  much  snow  drifting  toward  that  particular  spot.  But 
nothing  had  ever  been  done  about  it.  Even  though  every- 
thing else  on  the  Ingmar  Farm  had  undergone  changes, 
certainly  those  old  boards  were  never  disturbed. 

At  last  they  were  within  sight  of  the  farm.  And,  sure 
enough,  there  was  the  snowdrift  in  its  usual  place,  as  high 
as  a  wall  and  as  hard  as  a  rock!  Here  there  was  no 
possibility  of  their  turning  to  one  side;  they  had  no  choice 
but  to  drive  right  over  it.  The  thing  looked  impossible,  so 
the  servant  asked  whether  he  hadn't  better  go  down  to  the 
farm  and  get  some  help.  But  to  this  the  pastor  would  not 
consent.  He  had  not  exchanged  a  word  with  either  Karin  or 
Halvor  in  upward  of  five  years,  and  the  thought  of  meeting 
old  friends  with  whom  one  is  no  longer  on  speaking  terms, 
was  no  more  pleasant  to  him  than  it  is  to  most  people. 

So  up  the  drift  the  horse  had  to  mount.  The  icy  crust 
held  until  the  animal  had  reached  the  top,  then  it  gave  way 
and  the  horse  suddenly  disappeared  from  sight,  as  if  into  a 
grave,  while  the  two  men  sat  gazing  down  helplessly.  One 
of  the  traces  had  snapped;  so  they  could  not  have  gone  far- 
ther even  if  they  had  been  able  to  get  the  horse  out  of  the 
drift. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  pastor  stepped  into  the  living- 


THE  INGMAR  FARM  257 

room  at  the  Ingmar  Farm.  A  blazing  log  fire  was  burning 
on  the  hearth.  The  housewife  sat  at  one  side  of  the  fire- 
place spinning  fine  carded  wool;  behind  her  were  the  maids, 
seated  in  a  long  row,  spinning  flax.  The  men  had  taken 
possession  of  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace.  They  had 
just  come  in  from  their  work;  some  were  resting,  others,  to 
pass  the  time,  had  taken  up  some  light  work,  such  as 
whittling  sticks,  sharpening  rakes,  and  making  axe  handles. 

When  the  pastor  told  of  his  mishap,  they  all  bestirred 
themselves,  and  the  menservants  went  out  to  dig  the 
horse  out  of  the  drift.  Halvor  led  the  pastor  up  to  the 
table,  and  asked  him  to  sit  down.  Karin  sent  the  maids  into 
the  kitchen  to  make  fresh  coffee  and  to  prepare  a  special 
supper.  Then  she  took  the  pastor's  big  fur  coat  and  hung 
it  in  front  of  the  fire  to  dry,  lighted  the  hanging  lamp,  and 
moved  her  spinning  wheel  up  to  the  table,  so  that  she 
could  talk  with  the  menfolk. 

"I  couldn't  have  had  a  better  welcome  had  Big  Ingmar 
himself  been  alive,"  thought  the  pastor. 

Halvor  talked  at  length  about  the  weather  and  the  state 
of  the  roads,  then  he  asked  the  clergyman  if  he  had  got  a 
good  price  for  his  grain,  and  if  he  had  succeeded  in  getting 
certain  repairs  made  that  he  had  been  wanting  for  such  a 
long  time.  Karin  then  asked  after  the  pastor's  wife,  and 
hoped  that  there  had  been  some  improvement  in  her  health 
of  late. 

At  that  point  the  pastor's  man  came  in  and  reported 
that  the  horse  had  been  dug  out,  the  trace  mended,  and 
that  all  was  in  readiness  to  start.  But  Karin  and  Halvor 


258  JERUSALEM 

pressed  the  pastor  to  stay  to  supper,  and  would  not  take 
no  for  an  answer. 

The  coffee  tray  was  brought  in.  On  it  were  the  large 
silver  coffee  urn  and  the  precious  old  silver  sugar  bowl, 
which  was  never  used  save  at  such  high  functions  as 
weddings  and  funerals,  and  there  were  three  big  silver 
cake  baskets  full  of  fresh  rusks  and  cookies. 

The  pastor's  small,  round  eyes  grew  big  with  astonish- 
ment; he  sat  as  if  in  a  trance,  afraid  of  being  awakened. 

Halvor  showed  the  pastor  the  skin  of  an  elk,  which  had 
been  shot  in  the  woods  on  the  Ingmar  Farm.  The  skin 
was  then  spread  out  upon  the  floor.  The  pastor  declared 
that  he  had  never  seen  a  larger  or  more  beautiful  hide. 
Then  Karin  went  up  to  Halvor  and  whispered  in  his  ear. 
Immediately  Halvor  turned  to  the  clergyman,  and  asked 
him  to  accept  the  skin  as  a  gift. 

Karin  bustled  back  and  forth,  between  the  table  and  the 
cupboard,  and  brought  out  some  choice  old  silverware. 
She  had  spread  a  fine  hemstiched  cloth  on  the  table,  which 
she  was  dressing  as  if  for  a  grand  party.  She  poured  milk 
and  unfermented  beer  into  huge  silver  jugs. 

When  they  had  finished  supper,  the  pastor  excused  him- 
self, and  rose  to  go.  Halvor  Halvorsson  and  two  of  his 
hired  men  went  with  him  to  open  a  way  through  the  drifts, 
steadying  the  sledge  whenever  it  was  about  to  upset,  and 
never  leaving  him  till  he  was  safe  within  his  own  dooryard. 

The  parson  was  thinking  how  pleasant  it  was  to  renew 
old  friendships,  as  he  bade  Halvor  a  hearty  good-bye. 
Halvor  stood  feeling  for  something  in  his  pocket.  Presently 


THE  INGMAR  FARM  259 

he  pulled  out  a  slip  of  folded  paper.  He  wondered  whether 
the  pastor  would  mind  taking  it  now.  It  was  an  announce- 
ment which  was  to  be  read  after  the  service  in  the  morning. 
If  the  pastor  would  be  good  enough  to  take  it,  it  would 
save  him  the  bother  of  sending  it  to  the  church  by  a  special 
messenger. 

When  the  pastor  had  gone  inside,  he  lighted  the  lamp* 
unfolded  the  paper,  and  read : 

"In  consequence  of  the  owner's  contemplated  removal 
to  Jerusalem,  the  Ingmar  Farm  is  offered  for  sale " 

He  read  no  farther.  "Well,  well,  so  now  it  has  come 
upon  us,"  he  murmured,  as  if  speaking  of  a  storm.  "This 
is  what  I've  been  expecting  for  many  a  long  year!" 


HOK  MATTS  ERICSSON 


HOK  MATTS  ERICSSON 

IT  WAS   a  beautiful  day  in  spring.     A  peasant  and 
his  son  were  on  their  way  to  the  great  ironworks, 
which  are  situated  close  to  the  southern  boundary 
of  the  parish.     As  they  lived  up  at  the  north  end,  they  had 
to  traverse  almost  the  entire  length  of  the  parish.     They 
went  past  newly  sown  fields,  where  the  grain  was  just  be- 
ginning to  spring  up.     They  saw  all  the  green  rye  fields 
and  all  the  fine  meadows,  where  the  clover  would  soon  be 
reddening  and  sending  forth  its  sweet  fragrance. 

They  also  walked  past  a  number  of  houses  which  were 
being  repainted,  and  fitted  up  with  new  windows  and  glass- 
enclosed  verandas,  and  past  gardens  where  spading  and 
planting  were  going  on.  All  whom  they  met  along  the  way 
had  muddy  shoes  and  grimy  hands  from  working  in  fields 
and  vegetable  gardens,  where  they  had  been  planting 
potatoes,  setting  out  cabbages,  and  sowing  turnips  and 
carrots. 

The  peasant  simply  had  to  stop  and  ask  them  what  kind 
of  potatoes  they  were  planting  and  just  when  they  had 
sown  their  oats.  At  sight  of  a  calf  or  a  foal,  he  at  once 
began  to  figure  out  how  old  it  was.  He  calculated  the 
number  of  cows  they  would  be  likely  to  keep  at  such  and 
such  a  farm,  and  wondered  how  much  this  or  that  colt 
would  fetch  when  broken. 

263 


264  JERUSALEM 

The  son  tried  time  after  time  to  turn  his  father's  thought 
away  from  such  things.  "I'm  thinking  that  you  and  I 
will  soon  be  wandering  through  the  valley  of  Sharon  and 
the  desert  of  Judea,"  he  said. 

The  father  smiled,  and  his  face  brightened  for  a  moment. 
"It  will  indeed  be  a  blessed  privilege  to  walk  in  the  foot- 
steps of  our  dear  Lord  Jesus,"  he  answered.  But  the  next 
minute,  on  seeing  a  couple  of  cartloads  of  quicklime,  his 
thoughts  were  diverted.  "I  say,  Gabriel,  who  do  you 
suppose  is  hauling  lime?  Folks  say  that  lime  as  a  fertil- 
izer makes  a  rich  crop.  That  will  be  something  to  feast 
your  eyes  on  in  the  fall." 

"In  the  fall,  father!"  said  the  son  reprovingly. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  returned  the  farmer,  "that  by  fall  I 
shall  be  dwelling  in  the  tents  of  Jacob  and  labouring  in  the 
Lord's  vineyard." 

"Amen!  "cried  the  son.     "So  be  it.     Amen!" 

Then  they  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  space,  watching  the 
signs  of  spring.  Water  trickled  in  the  ditches,  and  the 
road  itself  was  badly  broken  up  from  the  spring  rains. 
Whichever  way  they  looked  there  was  work  to  be  done. 
Every  one  wanted  to  turn  to  and  help,  even  when  crossing 
some  field  other  than  his  own. 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  said  the  farmer  thoughtfully,  "I 
wish  I  had  sold  my  property  some  fall,  when  the  work  was 
over.  It's  hard  having  to  leave  it  all  in  the  springtime, 
just  when  you'd  like  to  take  hold  with  might  and  main." 

The  son  only  shrugged;  he  knew  that  he  would  have  to 
let  the  old  man  talk. 


HOK  MATTS  ERICSSON  265 

"It's  just  thirty-one  years  now  since  I,  as  a  young  man, 
bought  a  piece  of  waste  land  on  the  north  side  of  this 
parish,"  said  the  farmer.  "The  ground  had  never  been 
touched  by  a  spade.  Half  of  it  was  bog,  the  other  half 
a  mass  of  stones.  It  looked  pretty  bad.  On  that  very 
land  I  worked  like  a  slave,  digging  up  stones  until  my  back 
was  ready  to  break.  But  I  think  I  laboured  even  harder 
with  the  swamp,  before  I  finally  got  it  drained  and  filled 
in." 

"Yes,  you  have  certainly  worked  hard,  father,"  the  son 
admitted.  "This  is  why  God  thinks  of  you,  and  summons 
you  to  His  Holy  Land." 

"At  first,"  the  farmer  went  on,  "I  lived  in  a  hovel  that 
wasn't  much  better  than  a  charcoaler's  hut.  It  was  made 
of  unstripped  logs,  with  only  sod  for  a  roof.  I  could  never 
make  that  hut  water  tight;  so  the  rains  always  came  in.  It 
was  mighty  uncomfortable,  especially  at  night.  The  cow 
and  the  horse  fared  no  better  than  I;  the  whole  of  the  first 
winter  they  were  housed  in  a  mud  cave  that  was  as  dark  as 
a  cellar." 

"Father,  how  can  you  be  so  attached  to  a  place  where 
you  have  suffered  such  hardships?" 

"But  only  think  of  the  joy  of  it  when  I  was  able  to  build 
a  big  barn  for  the  animals,  and  when  year  by  year  my  live 
stock  increased  so  that  I  was  always  having  to  add  new 
extensions  for  housing  them.  If  I  were  not  going  to  sell 
the  place  now,  I  should  have  to  put  a  new  roof  on  the  barn. 
This  would  have  been  just  the  time  to  do  it — as  soon  as  I'd 
finished  with  the  sowing." 


266  JERUSALEM 

"Father,  you  are  to  do  your  sowing  in  that  land  where 
some  seeds  fall  among  thorns,  some  on  stony  ground,  some 
by  the  wayside,  and  some  on  good  ground." 

"And  the  old  cottage,"  the  farmer  pursued,  "which  I 
built  after  the  first  hut,  I  had  thought  of  pulling  down  this 
year,  to  put  up  a  fine  new  dwelling  house.  What's  to  be 
done  now  with  all  the  timber  that  we  two  hauled  home  in 
the  winter?  It  was  mighty  tough  work  getting  it  down. 
The  horses  were  hard  driven,  and  so  were  we." 

The  son  began  to  feel  troubled.  He  thought  his  father 
was  slipping  away  from  him.  He  feared  that  the  old  man 
was  not  going  to  offer  his  property  to  the  Lord  in  the  right 
spirit.  "Well,"  he  argued,  "but  what  are  new  houses  and 
barns  as  compared  with  the  blessed  privilege  of  living  a 
pure  life  among  people  who  are  of  one  mind  ? " 

"Hallelujah!"  cried  the  father.  "Don't  you  suppose 
I  know  that  a  wonderful  portion  has  been  allotted  to  us? 
Am  I  not  on  my  way  to  the  works  to  sell  my  property 
to  the  Company  ?  When  I  come  back  this  way  everything 
will  be  gone,  and  I  shall  have  nothing  I  can  call  mine." 

The  son  did  not  reply,  but  he  was  pleased  to  hear  that 
his  father  still  held  to  his  decision. 

Presently  they  came  to  a  farm  beautifully  situated  on  a 
hill.  There  was  a  white-painted  dwelling  house,  with  a 
balcony  and  a  veranda,  and  round  the  house  were  tall 
poplars  whose  pretty  silvery  stems  were  swollen  with  sap. 

"Look!"  said  the  farmer.  "That  was  just  the  sort  of 
house  I  meant  to  have — with  a  veranda  and  a  balcony  and 
a  lot  of  ornamental  woodwork,  and  with  just  such  a  well- 


HOK  MATTS  ERICSSON  267 

mown  lawn  in  front.  Wouldn't  that  have  been  nice, 
Gabriel?" 

As  the  son  said  nothing,  the  farmer  concluded  that  he 
must  be  tired  of  hearing  about  the  farm,  so  he,  too,  lapsed 
into  silence  although  his  thoughts  were  still  upon  his  home. 
He  wondered  how  the  horses  would  fare  with  their  new 
owners,  and  how  things  in  general  would  be  run  on  the 
place.  "My  goodness!"  he  muttered  under  his  breath, 
"I'm  surely  doing  a  foolish  thing  in  selling  out  to  a  cor- 
poration !  They'll  go  and  cut  down  all  the  trees,  and  let 
the  farm  go  to  waste.  It  would  be  just  like  them  to  allow 
the  land  to  become  marshy  again,  and  to  let  the  birch 
woods  grow  down  into  the  fields." 

They  had  at  last  reached  the  works,  where  the  farmer's 
interest  was  again  roused.  There  he  saw  ploughs  and 
harrows  of  the  latest  pattern,  and  was  suddenly  reminded 
that  for  a  long  time  he  had  been  thinking  of  getting  a  new 
reaper.  Gazing  fondly  at  his  good-looking  son,  he  pictured 
him  sitting  on  a  fine,  red-painted  reaper,  cracking  his  whip 
over  the  horses,  and  mowing  down  the  thick,  waving  grass, 
as  a  war  hero  mows  down  his  enemies.  And  as  he  stepped 
into  the  office  he  seemed  to  hear  the  clicking  noise  of  the 
reaper,  the  soft  swish  of  falling  grass  and  the  shrill  chirp 
and  light  flutter  of  frightened  birds  and  insects. 

On  the  desk  in  there  lay  the  deed.  The  negotiations 
had  been  concluded,  and  the  price  settled  upon;  all  that 
was  needed  to  complete  the  deal  was  his  signature. 

While  the  deed  was  being  read  to  him  he  sat  quietly 
listening.  He  heard  that  there  were  so  and  so  many  acres 


268  JERUSALEM 

of  woodland,  and  so  and  so  many  of  arable  land  and 
meadow,  so  and  so  many  head  of  cattle,  and  such  and  such 
household  furnishings,  all  of  which  he  must  turn  over. 
His  features  became  set. 

"No,"  he  said  to  himself,  "it  mustn't  happen." 

After  the  reading  he  was  about  to  say  that  he  had 
changed  his  mind,  when  his  son  bent  down  and  whispered 
to  him: 

"Father,  it's  a  choice  between  me  and  the  farm,  for  I'm 
going  anyway  no  matter  what  you  do." 

The  peasant  had  been  so  completely  taken  up  with 
thoughts  of  his  farm  that  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that 
his  son  would  leave  him.  So  Gabriel  would  go  in  any  case ! 
He  could  not  quite  make  this  out.  He  would  never  have 
thought  of  leaving  had  his  son  decided  to  remain  at  home. 
But,  naturally,  wherever  his  son  went,  he,  too,  must  go. 

He  stepped  up  to  the  desk,  where  the  deed  was  now 
spread  out  for  him  to  sign.  The  manager  himself  handed 
him  the  pen,  and  pointed  to  the  place  where  he  was  to 
write  his  name. 

"Here,"  he  said,  "here's  where  you  write  your  name  in 
full — 'Hok  Matts  Ericsson." 

When  he  took  the  pen  it  flashed  across  his  mind  how, 
thirty-one  years  back,  he  had  signed  a  deedwhereby  he  had 
acquired  a  bit  of  barren  land.  He  remembered  that  after 
writing  his  name,  he  had  gone  out  to  inspect  his  new 
property.  Then  this  thought  had  come  to  him :  "  See  what 
God  has  given  you!  Here  you  have  work  to  keep  you 
going  a  lifetime." 


HOK  MATTS  ERICSSON  269 

The  manager,  thinking  his  hesitancy  was  due  to  un- 
certainty as  to  where  he  should  write  his  name,  again 
pointed  to  the  place. 

"The  name  must  be  written  there.  Now  write  'Hok 
Matts  Ericsson." 

He  put  the  pen  to  the  paper.  "This,"  he  mused,  "I 
write  for  the  sake  of  my  faith  and  my  soul's  salvation;  for 
the  sake  of  my  dear  friends  the  Hellgumists,  that  I  may  be 
allowed  to  live  with  them  in  the  unity  of  the  spirit,  and  so 
as  not  to  be  left  alone  here  when  they  all  go." 

And  he  wrote  his  first  name. 

"And  this,"  he  went  on  thinking,  "  I  write  for  the  sake  of 
my  son  Gabriel,  so  I  shan't  have  to  lose  the  dear,  good  lad 
who  has  always  been  so  kind  to  his  old  father,  and  to  let 
him  see  that  after  all  he  is  dearer  to  me  than  aught  else." 

And  then  he  wrote  his  middle  name. 

"  But  this,"  he  thought  as  he  moved  the  pen  for  the  third 
time,  "why  do  I  write  this?"  Then,  all  at  once,  his  hand 
began  to  move,  as  of  itself,  up  and  down  the  page,  leaving 
great  black  streaks  upon  the  hateful  document.  "This  I 
do  because  I'm  an  old  man  and  must  go  on  tilling  the  soil — 
go  on  plowing  and  sowing  in  the  place  where  I  have 
always  worked  and  slaved." 

Hok  Matts  Ericsson  looked  rather  sheepish  when  he 
turned  to  the  manager  and  showed  him  the  paper. 

"You'll  have  to  excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said.  "It  really 
was  my  intention  to  part  with  my  property,  but  when  it 
came  to  the  scratch,  I  couldn't  do  it." 


THE  AUCTION 


THE  AUCTION 

ONE  day  in  May  there  was  an  auction  sale  at  the 
Ingmar  Farm,  and  what  a  perfect  day  it  was! — 
quite  as  warm  as  in  the  summertime.  The  men 
had  all  discarded  their  long  white  sheepskin  coats  and 
were  wearing  their  short  jackets;  the  women  already  went 
about  in  the  loose-sleeved  white  blouses  which  belonged 
with  their  summer  dress. 

The  schoolmaster's  wife  was  getting  ready  to  attend  the 
auction.  Gertrude  did  not  care  to  go,  and  Storm  was  too 
busy  with  his  class  work.  When  Mother  Stina  was  all 
ready  to  start,  she  opened  the  door  to  the  schoolroom,  and 
nodded  a  good-bye  to  her  husband.  Storm  was  then  tell- 
ing the  children  the  story  of  the  destruction  of  the  great 
city  of  Nineveh,  and  the  look  on  his  face  was  so  stern  and 
threatening  that  the  poor  youngsters  were  almost  fright- 
ened to  death. 

Mother  Stina,  on  her  way  to  the  Ingmar  Farm,  stopped 
whenever  she  came  to  a  hawthorn  in  bloom,  or  a  hillock 
decked  with  white,  sweet-scented  lilies  of  the  valley. 

"Where  could  you  find  anything  lovelier  than  this,"  she 
thought,  "even  if  you  were  to  go  as  far  away  as  Jerusa< 
lem?" 

The  schoolmaster's  wife,  like  many  others,  had  come  to 
love  the  old  parish  more  than  ever  since  the  Hellgumists 

273 


274  JERUSALEM 

had  called  it  a  second  Sodom  and  wanted  to  abandon  it. 
She  plucked  a  few  of  the  tiny  wild  flowers  that  grew  by  the 
roadside,  and  gazed  at  them  almost  tenderly.  "  If  we  were 
as  bad  as  they  try  to  make  us  out,"  she  mused,  "it  would 
be  an  easy  matter  for  God  to  destroy  us.  He  need  only  let 
the  cold  continue  and  keep  the  ground  covered  with  snow. 
But  when  our  Lord  allows  the  spring  and  the  flowers  to  re- 
turn, He  must  at  least  think  us  fit  to  live." 

When  Mother  Stina  finally  reached  the  Ingmar  Farm  she 
halted  and  glanced  round  timidly.  "I  think  I'll  go  back," 
she  said  to  herself.  "I  could  never  stand  by  and  see  this 
dear  old  home  broken  up."  But  all  the  same  she  was  far 
too  curious  to  find  out  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  farm 
to  turn  back. 

As  soon  as  it  became  known  that  the  farm  was  for  sale, 
Ingmar  put  in  a  bid  for  it.  But  Ingmar  had  only  about 
six  thousand  kroner,  and  Halvor  had  already  been  offered 
twenty-five  thousand  by  the  management  of  the  big 
Bergsana  sawmills  and  ironworks.  Ingmar  succeeded  in 
borrowing  enough  money  to  enable  him  to  offer  an  equally 
large  sum.  The  Company  then  raised  its  bid  to  thirty 
thousand,  which  was  more  than  Ingmar  dared  offer;  for  he 
could  not  think  of  assuming  so  heavy  a  debt.  The  worst 
of  it  was,  that  not  only  would  the  homestead  by  this  means 
pass  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Ingmars  for  all  time — for  the 
Company  was  never  known  to  part  with  anything  once  it 
became  its  property — but  moreover  it  was  not  likely 
that  it  would  allow  Ingmar  to  run  the  sawmill  at  Lang- 
fors  Falls,  in  which  case  he  would  be  deprived  of  his  living. 


THE  AUCTION  275 

Then  he  would  have  to  give  up  all  thought  of  marrying 
Gertrude  in  the  fall,  as  had  been  planned.  It  might  even 
be  necessary  for  him  to  go  elsewhere,  to  seek  employ- 
ment. 

When  Mother  Stina  thought  of  this,  she  did  not  feel  very 
pleasantly  disposed  toward  Karin  and  Halvor.  "I  hope 
to  goodness  that  Karin  won't  come  up  and  speak  to  me!" 
she  muttered  to  herself.  "  For  if  she  does,  I'll  just  have  to 
let  her  know  what  I  think  of  her  treatment  of  Ingmar. 
After  all,  it's  her  fault  that  the  farm  does  not  already 
belong  to  him.  I've  been  told  that  they'll  need  a  lot  of 
money  for  the  journey.  Just  the  same  it  seems  mighty 
strange  that  Karin  can  have  the  heart  to  sell  the  old  place 
to  a  corporation  that  would  cut  down  all  the  timber  and 
let  the  fields  go  to  waste." 

There  was  some  one  outside  the  corporation  who  wished 
to  buy  the  place;  it  was  the  rich  district  judge,  Berger 
Sven  Persson.  Mother  Stina  felt  that  such  an  arrangement 
would  be  better  for  Ingmar,  as  Sven  Persson  was  a  gen- 
erous man,  who  would  surely  let  him  keep  the  sawmill. 
"Sven  Persson  will  not  forget  that  he  was  once  a  poor 
goose  boy  on  this  farm,"  she  reflected;  "and  that  it  was 
Big  Ingmar  who  first  took  him  in  hand  and  gave  him  a 
start  in  life." 

Mother  Stina  did  not  go  into  the  house,  but  remained  in 
the  yard,  as  did  most  of  the  people  who  had  come  to  attend 
the  sale.  She  sat  down  on  a  pile  of  boards,  and  began  to 
glance  about  her  very  carefully,  as  one  is  wont  to  do  when 
taking  a  last  look  at  some  beloved  spot. 


276  JERUSALEM 

Surrounding  the  farmyard  on  three  sides  were  ranges  of 
outbuildings,  and  in  the  centre  was  a  little  storehouse 
propped  on  four  posts.  Nothing  looked  particularly  old, 
with  the  exception  of  the  porch  with  the  carved  moulding 
at  the  entrance  to  the  dwelling-house,  and  another  one, 
still  older,  with  stout  twisted  pillars,  at  the  entrance  of  the 
washhouse. 

Mother  Stina  thought  of  all  the  old  Ingmarssons  whose 
feet  had  trod  the  yard.  She  seemed  to  see  them  coming 
home  from  their  work  in  the  evening,  and  gathering  around 
the  hearth,  tall  and  somewhat  bent,  always  afraid  of  in- 
truding themselves,  or  of  accepting  more  than  they  felt 
was  their  due. 

And  she  thought  of  the  industry  and  honesty  which  had 
always  been  practised  on  this  farm.  "It  ought  never  to  be 
allowed!"  was  her  thought  as  regards  the  auction.  "The 
king  should  be  told  of  it!"  Mother  Stina  took  it  more  to 
heart  than  if  it  had  been  a  question  of  parting  with  her  own 
home. 

The  sale  had  not  yet  begun,  but  a  good  many  people  had 
arrived.  Some  had  gone  into  the  barns  to  look  over  the 
live  stock;  others  remained  out  in  the  yard  examining  the 
farm  implements  placed  there  for  inspection.  Mother 
Stina  on  seeing  a  couple  of  peasant  women  come  out  of  a 
cowshed  grew  indignant.  "Just  look  at  Mother  Inga 
and  Mother  Stava!"  she  muttered.  "Now  they've  been 
in  and  picked  out  a  cow  apiece.  Think  how  they'll  be 
going  around  bragging  that  they've  got  a  cow  of  the  old 
breed  from  the  Ingmar  Farm!" 


THE  AUCTION  277 

When  she  saw  old  Crofter  Nils  trying  to  choose  a  plow 
she  smiled  a  little  scornfully. 

"Crofter  Nils  will  think  himself  a  real  farmer  when  he 
can  drive  a  plough  that  Big  Ingmar  himself  has  used. 

More  and  more  people  kept  gathering  round  the  things 
to  be  auctioned  off.  The  men  looked  wonderingly  at  many 
of  the  farming  tools,  which  were  of  such  old-time  make  that 
it  was  difficult  to  guess  what  they  had  been  used  for.  A  few 
spectators  had  thetemerity  to  laugh  at  the  old  sleighs  some 
of  which  were  from  ancient  times  and  were  gorgeously 
painted  in  red  and  green;  and  the  harnesses  that  went  with 
them  were  studded  with  white  shells,  and  fringed  with" 
tassels  of  many  colours. 

Mother  Stina  seemed  to  see  the  old  Ingmarssons  driving 
slowly  in  these  old  sleighs,  going  to  a  party  or  coming 
home  from  a  church  wedding,  with  a  bride  seated  beside 
them.  "Many  good  people  are  leaving  the  parish,"  she 
sighed.  For  to  her  it  was  as  if  all  the  old  Ingmars  had 
gone  on  living  at  the  farm  up  to  that  very  day,  when  their 
implements  and  their  old  carts  and  sleds  were  being 
hawked  about. 

"I  wonder  where  Ingmar  is  keeping  himself,  and  how  he 
feels?  When  it  seems  so  dreadful  to  me,  what  must  it  be 
for  him?" 

The  weather  being  so  fine,  the  auctioneer  proposed  that 
they  carry  out  all  the  things  that  were  to  go  under  the 
hammer,  so  as  to  avoid  any  overcrowding  of  the  rooms. 
So  maids  and  farm  hands  carried  out  boxes  and  chests,  all 
painted  in  tulips  and  roses.  Some  of  them  had  been  stand- 


278  JERUSALEM 

ing  in  the  attic,  undisturbed,  for  centuries.  They  also 
brought  out  silver  jugs  and  old-fashioned  copper  kettles, 
spinning-wheels  and  carders,  and  all  kinds  of  odd-looking 
weaving  appliances.  The  peasant  women  gathered  around 
all  these  old  treasures,  picking  them  up  and  turning  them 
over. 

Mother  Stina  had  not  intended  to  buy  anything,  when 
she  remembered  that  there  was  supposed  to  be  a  loom  here 
on  which  could  be  woven  the  finest  damask,  and  went  up 
to  look  for  it.  Just  then  a  maid  came  out  with  a  huge  Bible, 
which,  with  its  thick  leather  bindings  and  its  brass  clasps 
and  mountings,  was  so  heavy  that  she  could  hardly  carry  it. 

Mother  Stina  was  as  astounded  as  if  some  one  had  struck 
her  in  the  face;  and  went  back  to  her  seat.  She  knew,  of 
course,  that  no  one  nowadays  reads  these  old  Bibles,  with 
their  obsolete  and  antiquated  language,  but  just  the  same 
it  seemed  strange  that  Karin  would  want  to  sell  it. 

It  was  perhaps  the  very  Bible  the  old  housewife  was 
reading  when  they  came  and  told  her  that  her  husband, 
the  great-grandfather  of  young  Ingmar,  had  been  killed  by 
a  bear.  Everything  that  Mother  Stina  saw  had  something 
to  tell  her.  The  old  silver  buckles  lying  on  the  table  had 
been  taken  from  the  trolls  in  Mount  Klack  by  an  Ingmar 
Ingmarsson.  In  the  rickety  chaise  over  yonder  the  Ingmar 
Ingmarsson  who  had  lived  during  her  childhood  had 
driven  to  church.  She  remembered  that  every  time  he 
had  passed  by  her  and  her  mother  on  their  way  to  church, 
the  mother  had  nudged  her  and  said:  "Now  you  must 
curtsy,  Stina,  for  here  comes  Ingmar  Ingmarsson." 


THE  AUCTION  279 

She  used  to  wonder  why  it  was  that  her  mother  always 
wanted  her  to  curtsy  to  Ingma'r  Ingmarsson;  she  had  never 
been  so  particular  when  it  came  to  the  judge  or  the 
bailiff. 

Afterward  she  was  told  that  when  her  mother  was  a  little 
girl  and  went  to  church  with  her  mother,  the  latter  had 
always  nudged  her  and  said:  'Now  you  must  curtsy,  Stina, 
for  here  comes  Ingmar  Ingmarsson." 

"God  knows,"  sighed  Mother  Stina,  "it's  not  only  be- 
cause I  had  expected  that  Gertrude  would  some  day  have 
been  mistress  here  that  I  grieve,  but  it  seems  to  me  as  if 
the  whole  parish  were  done  for." 

Just  then  the  pastor  came  along,  looking  solemn  and 
depressed.  He  did  not  stop  an  instant,  but  went  straight 
to  the  house.  Mother  Stina  surmised  that  he  had  come  to 
plead  Ingmar's  cause  with  Karin  and  Halvor. 

Shortly  after,  the  manager  of  the  sawmills  at  Bergsana 
arrived,  and  also  Judge  Persson.  The  manager,  who  was 
there  in  the  interest  of  the  corporation,  straightway  went 
inside,  but  Sven  Persson  walked  about  in  the  yard  for  a 
while  and  looked  at  the  things.  Presently  he  stopped  in 
front  of  a  little  old  man  with  a  big  beard,  who  was  sitting  on 
the  same  pile  of  boards  as  Mother  Stina. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  happen  to  know,  Strong  Ingmar, 
whether  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  has  decided  to  buy  the  timber 
I  offered  him  ? " 

"He  says  no,"  the  old  man  answered,  "but  I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  he  were  to  change  his  mind  soon."  At  the 
same  time  he  winked  and  jerked  his  thumb  in  the  direction 


280  JERUSALEM 

of  Mother  Stina,  thus  cautioning  Sven  Persson  not  to  let 
her  hear  what  they  were  talking  about. 

"I  should  think  he'd  be  satisfied  to  accept  my  terms," 
said  the  Judge.  "  I  don't  make  these  offers  every  day;  but 
this  I'm  doing  for  Big  Ingmar's  sake." 

"You're  right  about  its  being  a  good  offer,"  the  old  man 
agreed,  "but  he  says  that  he  has  already  made  a  deal  else- 
where." 

"I  wonder  if  he  has  really  considered  what  it  is  that  he's 
losing?"  said  Sven  Persson,  and  walked  on. 

Thus  far  none  of  the  Ingmarsson  family  had  been  seen 
about  the  yard;  but  presently  young  Ingmar  was  dis- 
covered standing  leaning  against  a  wall,  quite  motionless, 
and  with  his  eyes  half  closed.  Now  a  number  of  people  got 
up  to  go  over  and  shake  hands  with  him,  but  when  they 
were  quite  close,  they  bethought  themselves  and  went 
back  to  their  seats. 

Ingmar  was  deathly  pale,  and  every  one  who  looked  at 
him  could  see  that  he  was  suffering  keenly;  therefore,  noone 
ventured  to  speak  to  him.  He  stood  so  quietly  that  many 
had  not  even  noticed  that  he  was  there.  But  those  who 
had  could  think  of  nothing  else.  Here  there  was  none  of 
the  merriment  which  usually  prevails  at  auctions.  With 
Ingmar  standing  there,  hugging  the  wall  of  the  old  home  he 
was  about  to  lose,  they  felt  no  inclination  to  laugh  or  to 
joke. 

Then  came  a  moment  for  the  opening  of  the  auction. 
The  auctioneer  mounted  a  chair,  and  began  to  offer  the  first 
lot — an  old  plow. 


THE  AUCTION  281 

Ingmar  never  moved.  He  was  more  like  a  statue  than  a 
human  being. 

"Good  heavens!  why  can't  he  go  away?"  said  the  people. 
"He  doesn't  have  to  stay  here  and  witness  this  miserable 
business.  But  the  Ingmarssons  never  behave  like  other 
folks." 

The  hammer  then  fell  for  the  first  sale.  Ingmar  started 
as  if  it  had  caught  him;  but  in  a  moment  he  again  became 
motionless.  But  at  every  ring  of  the  hammer  a  shudder 
went  through  him. 

Two  peasant  women  passed  just  in  front  of  Mother 
Stina;  they  were  talking  about  Ingmar. 

"Think!  If  he  had  only  proposed  to  some  rich  farmer's 
daughter  he  might  have  had  enough  money  to  buy  the 
farm;  but  of  course  he's  going  to  marry  the  schoolmaster's 
Gertrude,"  said  one. 

"They  say  that  a  rich  and  influential  man  has  offered  to 
give  him  the  Ingmar  Farm  as  a  wedding  present,  if  he  will 
marry  his  daughter,"  said  the  other.  "You  see,  they 
don't  mind  his  being  poor,  because  he  belongs  to  such  a 
good  family." 

"Anyway,  there's  some  advantage  in  being  the  son  of 
Big  Ingmar." 

"It  would  indeed  have  been  a  good  thing  if  Gertrude 
had  had  a  little,  so  that  she  could  have  given  him  a  lift," 
thought  Mother  Stina. 

When  all  the  farming  implements  had  been  sold,  the 
auctioneer  moved  over  to  another  part  of  the  yard,  where 
the  household  linens  were  piled.  He  then  began  to  offer  for 


282  JERUSALEM 

sale  home-woven  fabrics — table  cloths,  bed  linen,  and  hang- 
ings, holding  them  up  so  that  the  embroidered  tulips  and 
the  various  fancy  weaves  could  be  seen '  all  over  the 
yard. 

Ingmar  must  have  noticed  the  light  flutter  of  the  linen 
pieces  as  they  were  being  held  aloft,  for  he  involuntarily 
glanced  up.  For  a  moment  his  tired  eyes  looked  out  upon 
the  desecration,  then  he  turned  away. 

"I've  never  seen  the  like  of  that,"  said  a  young  peasant 
girl.  "The  poor  boy  looks  as  if  he  were  dying.  If 
he'd  only  go  away  instead  of  standing  here  tormenting 
himself!" 

Mother  Stina  suddenly  jumped  to  her  feet  as  if  to  cry  out 
that  this  thing  must  be  stopped;  then  she  sat  down  again. 
"I  mustn't  forget  that  I'm  only  a  poor  old  woman,"  she 
sighed. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  dead  silence,  which  made  Mother 
Stina  look  up.  The  silence  was  due  to  the  sudden  ap- 
pearance of  Karin,  who  had  just  come  out  from  the  house. 
Now  it  was  quite  plain  what  they  all  thought  of  Karin  and 
her  dealings,  for  as  she  went  across  the  yard  every  one 
drew  back.  No  one  put  out  a  hand  to  greet  her,  no  one 
spoke  to  her;  they  simply  stared  disapprovingly. 

Karin  looked  tired  and  worn,  and  stooped  more  than 
usual.  A  bright  red  spot  appeared  on  both  cheeks,  and  she 
looked  as  miserable  as  in  the  days  when  she  had  had  her 
struggles  with  Elof.  She  had  come  out  to  find  Mother 
Stina  and  ask  her  to  go  inside.  "I  didn't  know  till  just 
now  that  you  were  here,  Mother  Storm,"  she  said. 


THE  AUCTION  283 

Mother  Stina  at  first  declined,  but  was  finally  persuaded. 

"We  want  all  the  old  antagonisms  to  be  forgotten  now 
that  we  are  going  away,"  said  Karin. 

While  they  were  going  toward  the  house  Mother  Stina 
ventured:  "This  must  be  a  trying  day  for  you,  Karin." 

Karin's  only  response  was  a  sigh. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  have  the  heart  to  sell  all  these 
old  things,  Karin." 

"It  is  what  one  loves  most  that  one  must  first  and  fore- 
most sacrifice  to  the  Lord,"  said  Karin. 

"Folks  think  it  strange "  Mother  Stina  began,  but 

Karin  cut  her  short. 

"The  Lord,  too,  would  think  it  strange  if  we  held  back 
anything  we  had  offered  in  His  Name." 

Mother  Stina  bit  her  lip.  She  could  not  bring  herself  to 
say  anything  further.  All  the  reproaches  which  she  had 
meant  to  heap  upon  Karin  stuck  in  her  throat.  There 
was  an  air  of  lofty  dignity  about  Karin  that  disarmed 
people;  therefore,  no  one  had  the  courage  to  upbraid  her. 
When  they  were  on  the  broad  step  in  front  of  the  porch, 
Mother  Stina  tapped  Karin  on  the  shoulder. 

"Have  you  noticed  who  is  standing  over  there?"  she 
asked,  and  pointed  to  Ingmar. 

Karin  winced  a  little,  but  was  careful  not  to  look  over  at 
her  brother.  "The  Lord  will  find  a  way  out  for  him,"  she 
murmured.  "The  Lord  will  surely  find  a  way  out." 

To  all  appearances  the  living-room  was  not  much 
changed  by  reason  of  the  auction,  for  in  there  the  seats  and 
cupboards  and  bedsteads  were  stationary.  But  shining 


284  JERUSALEM 

copper  utensils  no  longer  adorned  the  walls,  the  built-in 
bedsteads  looked  bare,  stripped  of  their  coverings  and 
hangings,  and  the  doors  of  the  blue-painted  cupboards, 
which  in  the  old  days  were  always  left  standing  half  open, 
to  let  visitors  see  the  great  silver  jugs  and  beakers  that 
filled  its  shelves,  were  now  closed;  which  meant  that  there 
was  nothing  inside  worth  showing.  The  only  wall 
decoration  the  room  boasted  was  the  Jerusalem  canvas, 
which  on  that  day  had  a  fresh  wreath  around  it. 

The  large  room  was  thronged  with  relatives  and  co- 
religionists of  Halvor  and  Karin.  One  after  another,  they 
were  conducted  with  much  ceremony  to  a  large,  well-spread 
table,  for  refreshments. 

The  door  to  the  inside  room  was  closed.  In  there 
negotiations  for  the  sale  of  the  farm  itself  were  pending. 
The  talking  was  loud  and  heated,  especially  on  the  part  of 
the  pastor. 

In  the  living-room,  on  the  other  hand,  the  people  were 
very  quiet,  and  when  any  one  spoke,  it  was  in  hushed 
tones;  for  every  one's  thoughts  were  in  the  little  room 
where  the  fate  of  the  farm  was  being  settled. 

Mother  Stina  turned  to  Gabriel,  saying:  "I  suppose 
there's  no  chance  of  Ingmar  getting  the  farm  ? " 

"The  bidding  has  gone  far  beyond  his  figure  by  now," 
Gabriel  replied.  "The  innkeeper  from  Karmsund  is  said 
to  have  offered  thirty-two  thousand,  and  the  Company's 
bid  has  been  raised  to  thirty-five.  The  pastor  is  now  try- 
ing to  persuade  Karin  and  Halvor  to  let  it  go  to  the  inn- 
keeper rather  than  to  the  Company." 


THE  AUCTION  285 

"But  what  about  Berger  Sven  Persson?" 

"It  seems  that  he  has  not  made  any  bid  to-day." 

The  pastor  was  still  talking.  He  was  evidently  pleading 
with  some  one.  They  could  not  hear  what  he  said,  but 
they  knew  that  no  decision  had  been  reached  or  the  pastor 
would  not  have  gone  on  talking. 

Then  came  a  moment  of  silence,  after  which  the  inn- 
keeper was  heard  to  say,  not  exactly  loudly,  but  with  a 
clearness  that  made  every  word  carry:  "I  bid  thirty-six 
thousand,  not  that  I  think  the  place  is  worth  that  much, 
but  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  its  becoming  a  corporation 
property/' 

Immediately  after  there  was  a  noise  as  of  some  one 
striking  a  table  with  his  fist,  and  the  manager  of  the 
Company  was  heard  to  shout:  "I  bid  forty  thousand, 
and  more  than  that  Karin  and  Halvor  are  not  likely  to 
get/' 

Mother  Stina,  who  had  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet,  got 
up  and  went  back  to  the  yard.  It  was  dreary  enough  out 
there,  but  not  as  insufferable  as  sitting  in  the  close  room 
listening  to  the  haggling. 

The  sale  of  linen  was  over;  the  auctioneer  had  again 
changed  his  place,  and  was  about  to  cry  out  the  old  family 
silverware — the  heavy  silver  jugs  inlaid  with  gold  coin,  and 
the  beakers  bearing  inscriptions  from  the  seventeenth 
century.  When  he  held  up  the  first  jug,  Ingmar  started 
forward  as  if  to  stop  the  sale,  but  restrained  himself  at 
once,  and  went  back  to  his  place. 

A  few  minutes  later  an  old  peasant  came  bearing  the 


286  JERUSALEM 

silver  jug,  which  he  respectfully  deposited  at  Ingmar's 
feet.  "You  must  keep  this  as  a  souvenir  of  all  that  by 
right  should  have  been  yours,"  he  said. 

Again  a  tremor  passed  through  Ingmar's  body;  his  lips 
quivered,  and  he  tried  to  say  something. 

"You  needn't  say  anything  now,"  said  the  old  peasant. 
"That  will  keep  till  another  time."  He  withdrew  a  few 
paces,  then  suddenly  turned  back.  "I  hear  that  folks  are 
saying  you  could  take  over  the  farm  if  you  cared  to.  It 
would  be  the  greatest  service  you  could  render  this  parish." 

There  were  a  number  of  old  servants  living  at  the  farm, 
who  had  been  there  from  early  youth.  Now  that  old  age 
had  overtaken  them  they  still  stayed  on,  and  over  these 
hung  a  pall  of  uncertainty  such  as  had  not  touched  the 
others.  They  feared  that  under  a  new  master  they  would 
be  turned  out  of  their  old  home  to  become  beggars.  Or, 
whatever  happened,  they  knew  in  their  hearts  that  no 
stranger  would  care  for  them  as  their  old  master  and  mis- 
tress had  done.  These  poor  old  pensioners  wandered 
restlessly  about  the  farmyard  all  day  long.  Seeing  them 
shrink  past,  frail  and  helpless,  with  a  look  of  hopeless 
appeal  in  their  weak,  watery  eyes,  every  one  felt  sorry  for 
them. 

Finally  one  old  man,  who  was  nearly  a  hundred,  hobbled 
up  to  Ingmar,  and  sat  down  on  the  ground  quite  close  to 
him.  It  seemed  to  be  the  only  place  where  he  could  be  at 
ease,  for  there  he  remained  quietly,  resting  his  shaky  old 
hands  on  the  crook  of  his  cane.  And  as  soon  as  old  Lisa 
and  Cowhouse  Martha  saw  where  Pickaxe  Bengt  had 


THE  AUCTION  287 

taken  refuge,  they,  too,  came  tottering  up,  and  sat  down  at 
Ingmar's  feet.  They  did  not  speak  to  him,  but  somehow 
they  must  have  had  a  vague  idea  that  he  would  be  able  to 
protect  them — he  who  was  now  Ingmar  Ingmarsson. 

Ingmar  no  longer  kept  his  eyes  closed.  He  stood  look- 
ing down  at  them,  as  if  he  were  counting  up  all  the  years 
and  all  the  trials  through  which  they  had  lived,  serving  his 
people;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  first  duty  was  to 
see  that  they  be  allowed  to  live  out  their  days  in  their  old 
home.  He  glanced  out  over  the  yard,  caught  the  eye  of 
Strong  Ingmar,  and  nodded  to  him,  significantly. 

Whereupon  Strong  Ingmar,  without  a  word,  went  straight 
to  the  house.  He  passed  through  the  living-room  to  the 
inner  room,  and  stationed  himself  by  the  door,  where  he 
waited  for  an  opportunity  to  deliver  his  message. 

The  pastor  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
talking  to  Karin  and  Halvor,  who  were  sitting  as  stiff  and 
motionless  as  a  pair  of  mummies.  The  manager  from 
Bergsana  was  at  the  table  looking  confident,  for  he  knew 
that  he  was  in  a  position  to  outbid  all  the  others.  The 
innkeeper  from  Karmsund  was  standing  at  the  window, 
in  such  a  fever  of  agitation  that  great  beads  of  sweat  came 
out  on  his  forehead,  and  his  hands  shook.  Berger  Sven 
Persson  sat  on  the  sofa  at  the  far  end  of  the  room,  twid- 
dling his  thumbs,  his  hands  clasped  over  his  stomach,  his 
big  commanding  face  impassive. 

The  pastor  was  done  talking,  and  Halvor  glanced  over 
at  Karin  for  advice;  but  she  sat  as  if  in  a  trance,  staring 
blankly  at  the  floor- 


288  JERUSALEM 

Then  Halvor  turned  to  the  pastor,  and  said:  "Karin  and 
I  have  got  to  consider  that  we  are  going  to  a  strange  land, 
and  that  we  and  the  brethren  must  live  on  the  money  we 
can  get  for  the  farm.  We've  been  told  that  the  fare  alone 
to  Jerusalem  will  cost  us  fifteen  thousand  kroner.  And 
then,  afterward,  we  must  get  a  house  and  keep  ourselves  in 
food  and  clothes.  So  we  can  hardly  afford  to  give  anything 
away." 

"It's  unreasonable  of  you  people  to  expect  Karin  and 
Halvor  to  sell  the  farm  for  a  mere  song,  just  because  you 
don't  want  the  Company  to  have  it!"  said  the  manager. 
"It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  well  to  accept  my  offer  at 
once,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to  put  an  end  to  all  these 
useless  arguments." 

"Yes,"  Karin  spoke  up,  "we'd  better  take  the  highest 
bid." 

But  the  parson  was  not  so  easily  beaten!  When  it 
came  to  a  question  of  handling  a  worldly  matter  he  always 
knew  just  what  to  say.  Now  he  was  the  man,  and  not  the 
preacher. 

"I'm  sure  that  Karin  and  Halvor  care  enough  about  this 
old  farm  to  want  to  sell  to  some  person  who  would  keep  up 
the  property,  even  if  they  have  to  take  a  couple  of  thousand 
kroner  less,"  he  said. 

Then  he  proceeded  to  tell — for  Karin's  special  benefit — 
of  various  farms  that  had  gone  to  waste  after  falling  into 
the  hands  of  corporations. 

Once  or  twice  Karin  glanced  up  at  the  pastor.  He 
wondered  whether  he  had  finally  succeeded  in  making  some 


THE  AUCTION  289 

impression  upon  her.  "There  must  surely  be  a  little  of 
the  pride  of  the  old  peasant  matron  still  left  in  her,"  he 
thought  as  he  went  on  telling  of  tumbledown  farmhouses 
and  underfed  cattle. 

He  finally  ended  with  these  words:  "I  know  perfectly 
well  that  if  the  corporation  is  fully  determined  to  buy  the 
Ingmar  Farm,  it  can  go  on  bidding  against  the  farmers 
until  they  are  forced  to  give  up;  but  if  Karin  and  Halvor 
want  to  prevent  this  old  place  from  becoming  a  ruined 
corporation  property,  they  will  have  to  settle  on  a  price,  so 
that  the  farmers  may  know  what  to  be  guided  by." 

When  the  pastor  made  that  proposition,  Halvor,  uneasy, 
glanced  over  at  Karin,  who  slowly  raised  her  eyelids. 

"Certainly  Halvor  and  I  would  rather  sell  the  place  to 
some  one  of  our  own  kind.  Then  we  could  go  away  from 
here  knowing  that  everything  would  continue  in  the  old 
way." 

"If  some  person  outside  the  Company  wants  to  give  forty 
thousand  for  the  property,  we  will  be  satisfied  to  accept 
that  sum  for  it,"  said  Halvor,  knowing  at  last  what  his 
wife's  wishes  were. 

When  that  was  said,  Strong  Ingmar  walked  over  to  Sven 
Persson  and  whispered  to  him. 

Judge  Persson  immediately  arose  and  went  up  to  Halvor. 
"Since  you  say  you  are  willing  to  take  forty  thousand 
kroner  for  the  farm,  I'll  buy  it  at  that  figure,"  he 
said. 

Halvor's  face  began  to  twitch,  and  a  lump  seemed  to  rise 
in  his  throat;  he  had  to  swallow  before  he  could  speak. 


290  JERUSALEM 

"Thank  you,  Judge,"  he  finally  stammered.  "I'm  glad 
that  I  can  leave  the  farm  in  such  good  hands!" 

Judge  Persson  then  shook  hands  with  Karin,  who  was  so 
moved  that  she  could  hardly  keep  back  the  tears. 

"You  may  be  sure,  Karin,  that  everything  here  will  be  as 
of  old,"  he  said. 

"Are  you  going  to  live  at  the  farm  yourself?"  Karin 
inquired. 

"No,"  said  he,  then  added  with  great  solemnity:  "My 
youngest  daughter  is  to  be  married  in  the  summer,  and  she 
and  her  husband  are  to  have  the  farm  as  a  gift  from  me." 
He  then  turned  to  the  pastor  and  thanked  him. 

"Well,  Parson,  you'll  have  it  your  own  way,"  he  said. 
"I  never  dreamed  in  the  days  when  I  was  a  poor  goose  boy 
on  this  place  that  some  time  it  would  be  in  my  power  to 
arrange  for  an  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  to  come  back  to  the 
Ingmar  Farm!" 

The  pastor  and  the  other  men  all  stood  staring  at  the 
Judge  in  dumb  amazement,  not  grasping  at  first  what  was 
meant. 

Karin  left  the  room  at  once.  While  passing  through  the 
living-room  to  the  yard,  she  drew  herself  up,  retied  her 
headkerchief,  and  smoothed  out  her  apron.  Then,  with 
an  air  of  solemn  dignity,  she  went  straight  up  to  Ingmar 
and  grasped  his  hand. 

"Let  me  congratulate  you,  Ingmar,"  she  said,  her  voice 
shaking  with  joy.  "You  and  I  have  been  strongly  op- 
posed to  each  other  of  late  in  matters  of  religion;  but 
since  God  does  not  grant  me  the  solace  of  having  you  with 


THE  AUCTION  291 

us,  I  thank  Him  for  allowing  you  to  become  master  of  the 
old  farm." 

Ingmar  did  not  speak.  His  hand  lay  limp  in  Karin's, 
and  when  she  let  it  drop,  he  stood  there  looking  just  as  un- 
happy as  he  had  looked  all  day. 

The  men  who  had  been  inside  at  the  final  settlement 
came  out  now,  and  shook  hands  with  Ingmar,  offering  their 
congratulations.  "Good  luck  to  you,  Ingmar  Ingmarsson 
of  the  Ingmar  Farm!"  they  said. 

At  that  a  glimmer  of  happiness  crossed  Ingmar's  face, 
and  he  murmured  softly  to  himself:  "Ingmar  Ingmarsson 
of  the  Ingmar  Farm."  He  was  like  a  child  that  has  just 
received  a  gift  it  has  long  been  wishing  for.  But  the  next 
moment  his  expression  changed  to  one  of  intense  revolt 
and  repugnance,  as  if  he  would  have  thrust  the  coveted 
prize  from  him. 

In  a  flash  the  news  had  spread  all  over  the  farm.  People 
talked  loudly  and  questioned  eagerly;  some  were  so  pleased 
they  wept  for  joy.  No  one  listened  now  to  the  cries  of 
the  auctioneer,  but  everybody  crowded  around  Ingmar  to 
wish  him  happiness — peasants  and  gentlefolk,  friends  and 
strangers,  alike. 

Ingmar,  standing  there,  surrounded  by  all  these 
happy  people,  suddenly  looked  up.  He  then  saw 
Mother  Stina,  standing  a  little  apart  from  the  others, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  him.  She  was  very  pale,  and  looked 
old  and  poor.  As  he  met  her  gaze,  she  turned  and 
walked  away. 

Ingmar  hastily  left  the  others  and  hurried  after  her. 


292  JERUSALEM 

Then  bending  down  to  her,  every  muscle  of  his  face  aquiver 
with  grief,  he  said  in  a  husky  voice: 

"Go  home  to  Gertrude,  Mother  Stina,  and  tell  her  that  I 
have  betrayed  her,  that  I've  sold  myself  for  the  farm. 
Tell  her  never  to  think  more  of  such  a  miserable  wretch 
as  I." 


GERTRUDE 


GERTRUDE 

SOMETHING  strange  had  come  over  Gertrude  that 
she  could  neither  stay  nor  control — something  that 
grew  and  grew  until  it  finally  threatened  to  take 
complete  possession  of  her. 

It  began  at  the  moment  when  she  learned  that  Ingmar 
had  failed  her.  It  was  really  a  boundless  fear  of  seeing 
Ingmar  again — of  suddenly  meeting  him  on  the  road,  or  at 
church,  or  elsewhere.  Why  that  would  be  such  a  terrible 
thing  she  hardly  knew,  but  she  felt  that  she  could  never 
endure  it. 

Gertrude  would  have  preferred  shutting  herself  in,  day 
and  night,  so  as  to  be  sure  of  not  meeting  Ingmar;  but  that 
was  not  possible  for  a  poor  girl  like  her.  She  had  to  go  out 
and  work  in  the  garden,  and  every  morning  and  evening 
she  was  obliged  to  tramp  the  long  distance  from  the  house 
to  the  pasture  to  milk  the  cows,  and  she  was  often  sent  to 
the  village  store  to  buy  sugar  and  meal  and  whatever  else 
was  needed  in  the  house. 

When  Gertrude  went  out  on  the  road  she  would  always 
draw  her  kerchief  far  down  over  her  face,  keep  her  eyes 
lowered,  and  rush  on  as  if  fiends  were  pursuing  her.  As  soon 
as  she  could,  she  would  turn  from  the  highroad,  and  take 
the  narrow  bypaths  alongside  the  ditches  and  drains,  where 
she  felt  there  was  less  likelihood  of  her  meeting  Ingmar. 

295 


296  JERUSALEM 

Never  for  a  moment  did  she  feel  free  from  fear;  for  there 
was  not  a  single  place  in  all  the  parish  where  she  could  feel 
certain  of  not  running  across  him.  If  she  went  rowing  on 
the  river,  he  might  be  there  floating  his  timber,  or  if  she 
ventured  into  the  depths  of  the  forest,  he  might  cross  her 
path  on  his  way  to  work. 

When  weeding  in  the  garden,  she  would  often  glance 
down  the  road,  so  that  she  might  see  if  he  were  approach- 
ing, and  make  her  escape.  Ingmar  was  so  well  known 
about  the  place  that  her  dog  would  not  have  barked  at 
sight  of  him,  and  her  pigeons,  that  strutted  about  the 
gravel  walk,  would  not  have  flown  up  and  warned  her  of 
his  approach  with  the  rustle  of  their  flapping  wings. 

Gertrude's  haunting  dread  did  not  diminish,  but  rather 
increased  from  day  to  day.  All  her  grief  had  turned 
to  fear,  and  her  strength  to  combat  it  grew  less  and  less. 
"Soon  I  shall  not  dare  venture  outside  the  door,"  she 
thought.  "I  may  get  to  be  a  bit  queer  and  morose,  even  if 
I  don't  become  quite  insane.  God,  God,  take  this  awful 
fear  away  from  me!"  she  prayed.  "I  can  see  that  my 
mother  and  father  think  I'm  not  right  in  my  head;  and 
every  one  else  must  think  the  same.  Oh,  dear  Lord  God, 
help  me!"  she  cried. 

When  this  fear  condition  was  at  its  worst,  it  happened 
one  night  that  Gertrude  had  an  extraordinary  dream.  She 
dreamed  that  she  had  gone  out,  with  her  milk  pail  on  her 
arm,  to  do  the  milking.  The  cows  were  grazing  in  an 
enclosed  meadow  near  the  skirt  of  the  forest,  a  long  way 
from  home.  She  went  by  the  narrow  paths,  alongside  the 


GERTRUDE  297 

ditches  and  field  drains.  She  had  great  difficulty  in  walk- 
ing, for  she  felt  so  weak  and  weary  that  she  could  hardly 
lift  her  feet.  "What  can  be  the  matter  with  me?"  she 
asked  herself,  in  the  dream.  "Why  is  it  so  hard  for  me  to 
walk?"  And  she  also  answered  herself.  "You  are  tired 
because  you  carry  about  with  you  this  heavy  burden  of 
sorrow." 

When  she  finally  got  to  the  pasturage,  there  were  no 
cows  in  sight.  She  became  uneasy,  and  began  to  look  for 
them  in  their  usual  haunts — behind  the  brushwood,  over  by 
the  brook,  and  under  the  birches — but  there  was  not  a  sign 
of  them.  While  searching  for  the  cows  she  discovered  a 
gap  in  the  hedge,  on  the  side  fronting  the  forest.  She 
grew  terribly  alarmed,  and  stood  wringing  her  hands.  It 
suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  the  cows  must  have  cleared 
this  opening.  "Tired  as  I  am,  must  I  now  tramp  the  whole 
forest  to  find  them!"  she  whimpered,  in  her  dream. 

But  she  went  straight  on  into  the  woods,  slowly  pushing 
her  way  through  fir  brush  and  prickly  juniper  bushes. 
Presently  she  found  herself  walking  on  a  smooth  and  even 
road  without  knowing  how  she  had  got  there.  The  road 
was  soft  and  rather  slippery  from  the  brown  fir  needles 
that  covered  it.  On  either  side  stood  great  towering  pines, 
and  on  the  yellow  moss  under  the  trees  sunbeams  were 
playing.  Here  it  was  so  lovely  and  so  peaceful  that  she 
almost  forgot  her  fears. 

Of  a  sudden,  she  caught  sight  of  an  old  woman  moving 
about  in  among  the  trees.  It  was  Finne-Marit,  she  who  was 
famed  as  a  witch.  "How  dreadful  that  that  wicked  old 


298  JERUSALEM 

woman  is  still  alive, "  thought  Gertrude,  "and  that  I  should 
come  upon  her  here  in  the  forest!"  She  tried  to  slip  along 
very  cautiously,  so  as  not  to  be  seen  by  the  witch.  But 
before  Gertrude  could  get  past,  the  old  woman  looked  up. 

"Hi,  there!"  the  old  woman  shouted.  "Wait  a  bit,  and 
you'll  see  something! "  In  a  twinkling,  Finne-Marit  was  in 
the  road  and  on  her  knees  almost  in  front  of  Gertrude. 
Then,  with  her  forefinger,  she  drew  a  circle  in  the  carpet  of 
fir  needles,  at  the  centre  of  which  she  placed  a  shallow  brass 
bowl. 

"Now  she's  going  to  do  some  conjuring,"  thought 
Gertrude.  "Why,  then  it  must  be  true  that  she  is  a 
witch!" 

"Look  down  into  the  bowl!"  said  Finne-Marit,  "and 
maybe  you'll  see  something."  When  Gertrude  glanced 
down,  she  gave  a  start.  Mirrored  in  the  bowl,  she  saw  plainly 
the  face  of  Ingmar.  Immediately  the  old  woman  handed 
her  a  long  needle.  "See  here,"  she  said;  "take  this  and 
pierce  his  eyes.  Do  this  to  him  because  he  has  played 
you  false."  Gertrude  hesitated  a  little,  but  felt  strongly 
tempted.  "Why  should  he  fare  well,  and  be  rich  and 
happy,  while  you  suffer?"  said  the  old  dame.  With  that 
Gertrude  was  seized  by  an  uncontrollable  desire  to  do  the 
ogre's  bidding,  and  lowered  the  needle.  "Mind  you  stick 
him  right  in  the  eye!"  said  the  witch.  Whereupon 
Gertrude  quickly  drove  the  needle,  first  into  one  and  then 
into  the  other  of  Ingmar's  eyes.  In  so  doing,  she  noticed 
that  the  needle  went  far  down — not  as  though  it  had  come 
into  contact  with  metal,  but  rather  as  if  it  had  penetrated 


GERTRUDE  299 

some  soft  substance.  When  she  drew  it  out,  there  was 
blood  on  it. 

Gertrude,  seeing  blood  on  the  needle,  thought  she  had 
really  put  out  Ingmar's  eyes.  Then  she  was  so  overcome 
by  remorse  for  what  she  had  done,  and  so  frightened,  that 
she  woke  up. 

She  lay  for  a  long  while,  trembling  and  weeping,  before 
she  was  able  to  convince  herself  that  it  was  only  a  dream. 
"May  God  preserve  me  from  any  thought  of  vengeance!" 
she  moaned. 

She  had  barely  quieted  down  and  dropped  off  to  sleep 
again,  when  the  dream  recurred. 

Once  more  she  wandered  along  the  narrow  paths  toward 
the  grazing  ground.  This  time,  too,  the  cows  had  strayed, 
and  she  went  into  the  forest  to  look  for  them.  Again  she 
came  to  the  beautiful  road,  and  saw  the  sunbeams  playing 
on  the  moss.  Then  she  suddenly  recalled  all  that  had  just 
happened  to  her  in  a  dream,  and  grew  terribly  frightened 
lest  she  should  meet  the  old  witch  again.  Seeing  nothing 
of  her,  she  felt  greatly  relieved. 

All  at  once  she  seemed  to  see  the  earth  between  a  couple 
of  moss  tufts  open.  Suddenly  a  head  appeared.  Then 
she  saw  the  body  of  a  tiny  little  man  work  its  way  up  out 
of  the  earth,  and  all  the  while  the  little  man  was  making  a 
buzzing  and  humming  noise.  By  that  she  knew  whom  she 
had  encountered.  It  was  Humming  Pete,  of  course,  who 
was  said  to  be  a  bit  queer  in  his  head.  Sometimes  he  used 
to  stay  down  in  the  village,  but  during  the  summer  he 
always  lived  in  a  mud  cave  in  the  forest. 


300  JERUSALEM 

Then  Gertrude  recalled  to  memory  what  she  had  heard 
folks  say  of  Pete:  "Any  one  wanting  to  injure  an  enemy 
without  risking  discovery  could  avail  himself  of  his  ser- 
vices." He  was  suspected  of  having  started  a  number  of 
incendiary  fires  at  the  instigation  of  others. 

Gertrude  then  went  up  to  the  man  and  asked  him,  half 
in  fun,  if  he  wouldn't  like  to  set  fire  to  the  Ingmar  Farm. 
She  wished  it  done,  she  said,  because  Ingmar  Ingmarsson 
thought  more  of  the  farm  than  of  her. 

To  her  horror,  the  half-witted  dwarf  was  ready  to  act  on 
her  suggestion.  Nodding  gleefully,  he  started  on  a  run 
toward  the  settlement.  She  hurried  after,  but  could  not 
seem  to  overtake  him.  Her  dress  caught  in  the  brush- 
wood, her  feet  sank  in  the  marsh,  and  she  stumbled 
over  stony  ground.  When  she  was  almost  out  of  the  forest, 
what  should  she  see  through  the  trees  but  the  glow  from  a 
fire.  "He  has  done  it,  he  has  set  fire  to  the  farm!"  she 
shrieked,  again  awakening  from  the  horror  of  the  dream. 

Now  Gertrude  sat  up  in  bed;  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 
She  dared  not  sink  back  on  her  pillow  again  for  fear  of 
dreaming  further.  "Oh,  Lord  help  me,  Lord  help  me!" 
she  cried.  "I  don't  know  how  much  evil  there  may  be 
hidden  in  my  heart,  but  God  knows  that  never  once  during 
«tll  this  time  have  I  thought  of  revenging  myself  on 
Ingmar.  O  God,  let  me  not  fall  into  this  sin!"  she 
prayed.  Wringing  her  hands  in  an  agony  of  despair,  she 
cried  out : 

"Grief  is  a  menace,  grief  is  a  menace,  grief  is  a  menace!" 

It  was  not  very  clear  to  her  just  what  she  meant  by  that; 


GERTRUDE  301 

but  she  felt  somehow  that  her  poor  heart  was  like  a  ravaged 
garden,  in  which  all  the  flowers  had  been  uprooted,  and 
now  Grief,  as  a  gardener,  moved  about  in  there,  planting 
thistles  and  poisonous  herbs. 

The  whole  forenoon  of  the  following  day,  Gertrude 
thought  that  she  was  still  dreaming.  Her  dream  had 
seemed  so  real  that  she  could  not  get  it  out  of  her  mind. 
Remembering  with  what  satisfaction  she  had  plunged  the 
needle  into  Ingmar's  eyes,  she  shuddered.  "  How  dreadful 
that  I  should  have  become  so  cruel  and  resentful!  What 
shall  I  do  to  rid  myself  of  this?  I'm  really  getting  to  be  a 
very  wicked  person!" 

After  dinner  Gertrude  went  out  to  milk  the  cows.  She 
drew  her  kerchief  down  over  her  face,  as  usual,  and  kept 
her  eyes  on  the  ground.  Walking  along  the  narrow  paths 
where  she  had  wandered  in  the  dream,  even  the  flowers  by 
the  wayside  looked  the  same  as  in  the  dream.  In  her 
strange  state  of  semi-wakefulness,  she  could  hardly  distin- 
guish between  what  she  actually  saw  and  what  she  only 
seemed  to  see  in  fancy. 

When  she  reached  the  pasturage,  there  were  no  cows 
to  be  seen.  And  she  began  to  search  for  them,  as  she  had 
done  in  the  dream — looking  down  by  the  brook,  under  the 
birches,  and  behind  the  brushwood.  She  could  not  find 
them,  yet  she  felt  quite  certain  that  they  must  be  there- 
about, and  that  she  would  probably  see  them  were  she  only 
wide  awake.  Presently  she  came  upon  an  opening  in  the 
hedge,  and  knew  at  once  that  the  cows  had  made  their 
escape  through  this. 


302  JERUSALEM 

Gertrude  straightway  started  in  search  of  the  strayed 
cattle,  following  the  track  which  their  hoofs  had  made  in 
the  soft  earth  of  the  forest.  It  was  plain  that  they  had 
turned  in  on  a  road  leading  to  a  remote  Sater.  "Ah!"  she 
said,  "now  I  know  where  they  are.  I  remember  that  the 
folks  down  at  Luck  Farm  were  going  to  drive  their  cattle 
to  the  Sater  this  morning.  Our  cows,  on  hearing  the  tinkle 
of  their  cowbells,  must  have  broken  loose  and  followed  the 
others." 

Gertrude's  anxiety  had  for  the  moment  made  her  wide 
awake.  So  she  determined  to  go  up  to  the  Sater,  and  fetch 
the  cows  herself;  otherwise  there  was  no  telling  when  they 
would  come  back.  Now  she  walked  briskly  along  the 
steep  and  rocky  road. 

After  going  uphill  for  a  time  there  was  an  abrupt  turn 
in  the  road,  and  she  suddenly  came  upon  smooth  and  even 
ground  that  was  thick  with  pine  needles.  She  recognized 
it  as  the  road  of  her  dream.  There  stood  the  selfsame 
towering  pines,  and  on  the  moss  were  the  selfsame  yellow 
sun  spots. 

At  sight  of  the  road  Gertrude  lapsed  into  the  dreamy 
state  in  which  she  had  been  most  of  the  day.  She  moved 
along,  half  expecting  that  something  wonderful  would 
happen  to  her.  She  looked  under  the  fir  trees  to  see  if  any 
of  the  mysterious  beings  who  wander  about  in  the  depths 
of  the  forest  would  suddenly  appear  to  her.  However,  none 
appeared.  But  in  her  mind  new  thoughts  were  awakened. 
"What  if  I  should  really  take  revenge  on  Ingmar,  would 
that  still  my  fears?  Would  I  then  escape  the  horrors  of 


GERTRUDE  303 

insanity?  If  he  were  to  suffer  what  I  am  suffering,  would 
that  be  any  relief  to  me?" 

The  beautiful  road  seemed  interminably  long.  She 
walked  there  a  whole  hour,  astonished  that  nothing  un- 
usual had  happened.  The  road  finally  ended  in  a  forest 
meadow.  It  was  a  lovely  spot,  covered  with  fresh  green 
grass  and  many  wild  flowers.  On  one  side  rose  a  steep 
mountain;  the  other  sides  were  covered  with  high  trees 
— mostly  mountain  ash,  with  thick  clusters  of  white 
blossoms,  and  here  and  there  was  a  group  of  birches  and 
alders.  A  rather  broad  stream  gushed  down  the  mountain- 
side and  wound  its  way  through  the  meadow,  then  went 
hurling  down  into  a  gap  that  was  covered  with  dwarfed 
trees  and  bushes. 

Gertrude  stood  stock  still;  she  knew  the  place  at  once. 
That  stream  was  Blackwater  Brook,  and  strange  tales 
were  told  of  it.  Sometimes,  when  crossing  this  stream, 
people  had  clear  visions  of  events  that  were  taking  place 
elsewhere.  A  little  lad,  in  crossing,  once  saw  a  bridal 
procession  which  happened  just  then  to  be  moving  to- 
ward the  church  far  down  in  the  village,  and  a  charcoal 
burner  once  saw  a  king,  with  crown  and  sceptre,  ride  to  his 
coronation. 

Gertrude's  heart  was  in  her  mouth  "God  have  mercy 
on  me  for  what  I  may  see  here!"  she  gasped,  half  tempted 
to  turn  back.  "Poor  little  me!"  she  wailed,  feeling  sorry 
for  herself.  "  But  I  must — I  must  cross  here  to  fetch  my 
cows." 

"Dear  Lord,  don't  let  me  see  anything  dreadful  or  bad!" 


3o4  JERUSALEM 

she  prayed,  her  hands  tightly  clasped,  and  shaking  from 
fright.  "And  don't  let  me  fall  into  temptation." 

There  was  no  doubt  in  her  mind  that  she  would  see  some- 
thing; she  was  so  sure  of  it,  in  fact,  that  she  hardly  dared 
venture  out  upon  the  stones  that  led  across  the  brook. 
Yet  something  made  her  do  it.  When  halfway  over,  all  at 
once  she  saw  something  moving  in  among  the  trees  on  the 
other  side  of  the  brook.  It  was  no  bridal  procession,  how- 
ever, but  a  solitary  man,  who  was  slowly  coming  toward 
the  meadow. 

The  man  was  tall  and  young,  and  was  dressed  in  a  long 
black  garment  that  came  to  his  feet.  His  head  was  un- 
covered, and  his  hair  hung  in  long  black  locks  over  his 
shoulders.  He  had  a  slender  and  very  beautiful  face.  He 
was  coming  straight  toward  Gertrude.  In  his  eyes,  which 
were  clear  and  radiant,  there  was  a  wonderful  light;  and 
when  his  gaze  fell  upon  Gertrude,  she  felt  that  he  could 
read  all  her  sorrowful  thoughts,  and  she  saw  that  he  pitied 
her  whose  mind  was  haunted  by  fears  of  the  paltry  things 
of  earth,  whose  soul  had  become  darkened  by  thoughts  of 
revenge,  and  whose  heart  had  been  sown  with  the  thistles 
and  poison  flowers  of  Grief. 

As  he  drew  nigh,  there  came  over  Gertrude  such  a  bliss- 
ful sense  of  ever  growing  peace  and  serenity!  And  when  he 
had  passed  by,  there  was  no  longer  any  fear  or  resentment 
in  her  thought.  All  that  was  not  good  had  vanished  like  a 
sickness  of  which  one  has  been  healed. 

Gertrude  stood  rapt  for  a  long  while.  The  vision  faded 
away,  but  she  was  still  held  by  the  beauty  of  it,  and  the 


GERTRUDE  305 

impression  of  what  she  had  seen  stayed  with  her.  Clasping 
her  hands  she  raised  them  in  ecstasy. 

"  I  have  seen  the  Christ ! "  she  cried  out  with  joy.  "  I  have 
seen  the  Christ !  He  has  freed  me  from  my  sorrow,  and  I  love 
Him.  Now  I  can  never  again  love  any  one  else  in  the  world." 

The  trials  of  life  had  suddenly  dwindled  into  mere 
nothings,  and  life's  long  years  appeared  as  but  a  moment 
in  the  Glass  of  Time,  while  earthly  joys  seemed  trivial  and 
shallow  and  meaningless.  All  at  once  it  became  clear  to 
Gertrude  how  she  was  to  order  her  life;  so  that  she  might 
never  again  sink  down  into  the  darkness  of  fear,  nor  be 
tempted  into  doing  anything  mean  or  hateful,  she  would  go 
with  the  Hellgumists  to  Jerusalem.  This  thought  had 
come  to  her  when  the  Christ  passed  by.  She  felt  that  it 
had  come  from  Him;  she  had  read  it  in  His  eyes. 


On  the  beautiful  June  day  when  the  daughter  of  Berger 
Sven  Persson  was  given  in  marriage  to  Ingmar  Ingmarsson, 
a  tall,  slender  young  woman  stopped  at  the  Ingmar  Farm 
early  in  the  morning,  and  asked  if  she  might  speak  to  the 
bridegroom.  She  wore  her  kerchief  so  far  down  over  her 
face  that  nothing  could  be  seen  of  it  save  a  creamy  cheek 
and  a  pair  of  rosy  lips.  On  her  arm  was  a  basket  that  held 
little  bundles  of  handmade  trimmings,  a  few  hair  chains, 
and  hair  bracelets. 

She  gave  her  message  to  an  old  maidservant,  whom  she 
met  in  the  yard,  and  who  went  in  and  told  the  housewife. 
The  housewife  answered  sharply: 


3o6  JERUSALEM 

"Go  straight  back  and  tell  her  that  Ingmar  Ingmarsson 
is  just  going  to  drive  to  church;  he  has  no  time  to  talk 
with  her." 

As  soon  as  the  young  woman  received  this  curt  dis- 
missal, she  went  her  way.  When  the  bridal  party  had 
returned  from  the  church,  she  came  back,  and  again  asked 
if  she  might  speak  to  Ingmar  Ingmarsson.  This  time  she 
approached  one  of  the  menservants  who  was  hanging 
round  the  stable  door;  he  went  in  and  told  the  master. 

"Tell  her  that  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  is  about  to  sit  down 
to  the  wedding  feast,"  said  the  master.  "He  has  no  time 
to  talk  to  her." 

On  receiving  this  answer,  she  sighed  and  went  her  way. 
When  she  came  again  it  was  late  in  the  evening,  as  the  sun 
was  setting.  This  time  she  gave  her  message  to  a  child 
that  was  swinging  on  the  gate.  The  child  ran  straight  to 
the  house  and  told  the  bride. 

"Tell  her  that  Ingmar  Ingmarsson  is  dancing  with  his 
wife,"  said  the  bride.  "He  has  no  time  to  talk  to  any  one 
else." 

When  the  child  came  back  and  repeated  what  had  been 
told  her,  the  young  woman  smiled  indulgently,  and  said : 
"Now  you  are  telling  something  that  isn't  true.  Ingmar 
Ingmarsson  is  not  dancing  with  his  bride." 

This  time  she  did  not  go  away,  but  remained  standing  at 
the  gate. 

The  bride,  meanwhile,  thought  to  herself:  "I  have  told  a 
lie  on  my  wedding  day!"  Sorry  for  what  she  had  done, 
she  went  up  to  Ingmar,  and  told  him  that  there  was  a 


GERTRUDE  307 

stranger  outside  who  wished  to  speak  with  him.  Ingmar 
went  out,  and  found  Gertrude  standing  at  the  gate,  wait- 
ing. 

When  Gertrude  saw  him  coming,  she  started  down  the 
road,  Ingmar  following.  They  walked  along  in  silence  till 
they  were  some  distance  away  from  the  house. 

As  to  Ingmar,  it  could  be  truthfully  said  of  him  that  he 
had  aged  in  the  short  time  of  a  few  weeks.  At  any  rate, 
there  was  something  about  his  face  that  showed  added 
shrewdness  and  caution.  He  also  stooped  more,  and  looked 
more  subdued,  now  that  he  had  acquired  riches,  than  was 
the  case  when  he  had  nothing. 

Indeed,  he  was  anything  but  glad  to  see  Gertrude! 
Every  day  since  the  auction  he  had  been  trying  to  per- 
suade himself  into  the  belief  that  he  was  satisfied  with  his 
bargain.  "  In  fact,  we  Ingmarssons  care  for  little  .else  than 
to  plow  and  to  sow  the  fields  on  the  Ingmar  Farm,"  was 
what  he  had  said  to  himself. 

But  there  was  something  that  troubled  him  even  more 
than  the  loss  of  Gertrude — the  thought  that  now  there  was 
one  human  being  who  could  say  of  him  that  he  had  not 
lived  up  to  his  word.  Keeping  a  little  behind  Gertrude  all 
the  while,  he  went  over  in  his  mind  all  the  scornful  things 
which  she  had  a  right  to  say  to  him. 

Presently  Gertrude  sat  down  on  a  stone  at  the  roadside, 
and  put  her  basket  on  the  ground;  then  she  drew  her 
kerchief  still  farther  over  her  face. 

"Sit  down,"  she  said  to  Ingmar,  pointing  to  another 
stone.  "I  have  many  things  to  talk  over  with  you." 


308  JERUSALEM 

Ingmar  sat  down,  and  was  glad  that  he  felt  quite  calm. 
"This  will  be  easier  than  I  had  expected,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "I  thought  it  was  going  to  be  much  harder  on  me  to 
see  Gertrude  again,  and  to  hear  her  speak.  I  was  afraid 
that  my  love  for  her  would  get  the  better  of  me." 

"I  should  never  have  come  like  this,  and  disturbed  you 
on  your  wedding  day,  had  I  not  been  compelled  to  do  so," 
said  Gertrude.  "I  shall  soon  be  leaving  this  part  of  the 
world,  never  to  return.  I  was  ready  to  start  a  week  ago, 
when  something  came  up  that  made  it  necessary  for  me  to 
put  off  going,  that  I  might  speak  with  you  to-day." 

Ingmar  sat  all  huddled  up,  with  his  shoulders  hunched 
and  his  head  drawn  in,  as  if  he  were  expecting  a  tempest, 
saying  to  himself,  meanwhile:  "Whatever  Gertrude  may 
think  about  it,  I'm  sure  I  did  the  right  thing  in  choosing 
the  farm.  I  should  have  been  lost  without  it." 

"Ingmar,"  said  Gertrude,  blushing  so  that  the  little 
corner  of  her  cheek  that  could  be  seen  behind  the  kerchief 
showed  crimson.  "You  remember,  of  course,  that  five 
years  ago  I  was  ready  to  join  the  Hellgumists.  At  that 
time  I  had  given  my  heart  to  Christ.  But  I  took  it  back,  to 
give  it  to  you.  In  so  doing,  I  acted  wrongly,  and  that's 
why  I've  had  to  suffer  all  this.  As  I  once  forsook  Christ, 
even  so  have  I  been  forsaken  by  the  one  I  loved." 

When  Ingmar  perceived  that  Gertrude  was  about  to  tell 
him  that  she  was  going  with  the  Hellgumists,  he  at  once 
showed  signs  of  disapproval.  "I  can't  bear  to  have  her 
join  these  Jerusalem  people,  and  go  away  to  a  strange 
land,"  he  thought.  And  he  opposed  her  plan  as  vehemently 


GERTRUDE  309 

as  he  would  have  done  had  he  still  been  engaged  to  her. 
"'You  mustn't  think  like  that,  Gertrude,"  he  protested. 
"God  never  meant  this  as  a  punishment  to  you." 

"No,  no,  Ingmar,  not  as  a  punishment,  indeed  not!  but 
only  to  show  me  how  badly  I  had  chosen  the  second  time. 
Ah,  this  is  no  punishment!  I  feel  so  happy,  and  lack  for 
nothing.  All  my  sorrow  has  been  turned  into  joy.  You 
will  understand  this,  Ingmar,  when  I  tell  you  that  the  Lord 
Himself  has  chosen  me,  and  called  me." 

Ingmar  was  silent;  a  look  of  weariness  came  into  his 
eyes.  "Don't  be  a  fool!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Let 
Gertrude  go.  To  put  sea  and  land  between  you  and  her 
would  be  the  best  thing  that  could  happen — sea  and  land, 
yes,  sea  and  land!" 

And  yet  that  something  within  him  which  did  not  want 
to  let  Gertrude  go  was,  nevertheless,  stronger  than  himself. 
So  he  said:  "I  can't  conceive  of  your  parents  allowing  you 
to  leave  them." 

"That  they'll  never  do!"  Gertrude  replied.  "And  I 
know  it  so  well  that  I  wouldn't  even  dare  ask  them. 
Father  would  never  give  his  consent.  He  would  use  force, 
if  necessary,  to  prevent  my  going.  The  hard  part  of  it  is 
that  I  shall  have  to  sneak  away.  They  think  now  that 
I'm  going  about  the  country  selling  my  handiwork;  so  they 
won't  know  about  it  until  I  have  joined  the  Jerusalem 
pilgrims  at  Gothenburg  and  am  well  out  of  Sweden." 

Ingmar  was  very  much  distressed  to  think  that  Gertrude 
would  be  willing  to  cause  her  parents  such  heavy  sorrow. 
"Can  it  be  that  she  realizes  how  badly  she  is  behaving?" 


3io  JERUSALEM 

he  wondered.  He  was  about  to  remonstrate  with  her, 
then  checked  himself.  "You're  hardly  the  proper  person 
to  reproach  Gertrude  for  anything  that  she  may  do,"  he 
remarked  to  himself. 

"Indeed,  I  know  it  will  be  hard  on  father  and  mother," 
said  Gertrude,  "  but  I  must  follow  Jesus."  And  she  smiled 
as  she  named  the  name  of  the  Saviour.  "He  has  saved  me 
from  destruction.  He  has  healed  my  sick  soul!"  she  said 
feelingly. 

And  as  if  she  had  only  now  found  courage  to  do  so,  she 
pushed  back  her  kerchief,  and  looked  Ingmar  straight  in 
the  eyes.  It  struck  Ingmar  that  she  was  drawing  com- 
parisons between  him  and  some  one  whose  image  she 
carried  in  her  heart,  and  he  felt  that  she  found  him  small 
and  insignificant. 

"It  will  be  very  hard  for  father  and  mother,"  she 
reiterated.  "Father  is  an  old  man  now,  and  must  soon 
give  up  his  school;  so  they  will  have  even  less  to  live  upon 
than  before.  When  he  has  no  work  to  take  up  his  mind,  he 
will  become  restless  and  irritable.  Mother  won't  have  an 
easy  time  with  him.  They'll  be  very  unhappy,  both  of 
them.  Of  course  it  would  have  been  quite  different  could 
I  have  stayed  at  home  to  cheer  them." 

Gertrude  paused,  as  if  afraid  to  come  out  with  what  she 
wanted  to  say.  Ingmar's  throat  tightened,  and  his  eyes 
began  to  fill.  He  divined  that  Gertrude  wanted  to  ask 
him  to  look  after  her  old  parents. 

"And  I  fancied  that  she  had  come  here  to-day  only  to  abuse 
and  threaten  me !  And  instead  she  opens  her  heart  to  me." 


GERTRUDE  311 

"You  won't  have  to  ask  me,  Gertrude,"  he  said.  "This 
is  a  great  honour  for  you  to  confer  upon  one  who  has 
behaved  so  badly  to  you.  Be  assured  that  I  shall  treat 
your  old  parents  better  than  I  have  treated  you." 

When  Ingmar  said  this,  his  voice  trembled,  and  the  wary 
look  was  gone  from  his  face.  "How  kind  Gertrude  is  to 
me!"  he  thought.  "She  does  not  ask  this  of  me  only  out 
of  consideration  for  her  parents,  but  she  wants  to  show  me 
that  she  has  forgiven  me." 

"  I  knew,  Ingmar,  that  you  wouldn't  say  no  to  this.  And 
I  have  something  more  to  tell  you."  She  spoke  now  in  a 
brighter  and  more  confident  tone.  "I've  got  a  great 
surprise  for  you!" 

"  How  charmingly  Gertrude  speaks ! "  Ingmar  was  think- 
ing. "She  has  the  sweetest,  the  cheeriest,  and  most  tune- 
ful voice  I  have  ever  heard!" 

"About  a  week  ago,"  Gertrude  continued,  "I  left  home 
intending  to  go  straight  on  to  Gothenburg,  so  as  to  be 
there  when  the  Hellgumists  arrive.  The  first  -night  I 
stopped  over  at  Bergsana  with  a  poor  widow  whose  name 
is  Marie  Boving.  That  name  I  want  you  to  remember 
Ingmar — Marie  Saving.  If  she  should  ever  come  to  want, 
you  must  help  her." 

"How  pretty  Gertrude  is!"  he  thought,  as  he  nodded 
and  promised  to  remember  Marie  Boving's  name.  "How 
pretty  she  is!  What  will  become  of  me  when  she  goes? 
God  forgive  me  if  I  did  wrong  in  giving  her  up  for  an  old 
farm!  Fields  and  meadows  can  never  be  the  same  to  you 
as  a  human  being;  they  can't  laugh  with  you  when  you're 


3i2  JERUSALEM 

happy,  nor  comfort  you  when  you're  sad!  Nothing  on 
earth  can  make  up  for  the  loss  of  one  who  has  loved 
you." 

"Marie  Boving,"  Gertrude  went  on,  "has  a  little  room 
off  her  kitchen,  which  she  let  me  have  for  the  night. 
'You'll  surely  sleep  well  to-night,'  she  said  to  me,  'as  you 
are  to  lie  on  the  bedding  which  I  bought  at  the  sale  on  the 
Ingmar  Farm.'  But  as  soon  as  I  laid  down,  I  felt  a  hard 
lump  in  the  pillow  under  my  head.  After  all,  it  wasn't 
such  extra  good  bedding  Marie  had  bought  for  herself,  I 
thought;  but  I  was  so  tired  out  from  tramping  around  all 
day,  that  I  finally  dropped  off  to  sleep.  In  the  middle  of 
the  night  I  awoke  and  turned  the  pillow,  so  I  shouldn't  feel 
that  hard  lump.  While  smoothing  out  the  pillow,  I  dis- 
covered that  the  ticking  had  been  cut  and  clumsily  basted 
together.  Inside  there  was  something  hard  that  crackled 
like  paper.  "I  don't  have  to  lie  on  rocks,"  I  said  to  myself; 
then  I  ripped  open  a  corner  of  the  pillow,  and  pulled  out  a 
small  parcel,  which  was  done  up  in  wrapping  paper  and 
tied  with  string." 

Gertrude  paused  and  glanced  at  Ingmar,  to  see  whether 
his  curiosity  was  aroused;  but  apparently  he  had  not 
listened  very  closely  to  what  she  was  telling. 

"How  prettily  Gertrude  uses  her  hands  when  she  talks!" 
he  thought.  "I  don't  think  I've  ever  seen  any  one  as 
graceful  as  she  is.  There's  an  old  saying  that  man  loves 
mankind  above  everything.  However,  I  believe  that  I  did 
the  right  thing,  for  it  wasn't  only  the  farm  that  needed  me, 
but  the  whole  parish."  Just  the  same,  he  felt  to  his  dis- 


GERTRUDE  313 

comfort  that  now  it  was  not  so  easy  to  persuade  himself 
that  he  loved  his  old  home  more  than  he  loved  Gertrude. 

"I  put  the  parcel  down  beside  the  bed,  thinking  that  in 
the  morning  I  would  give  it  to  Marie.  But  at  daybreak  I 
saw  that  your  name  was  written  on  the  wrapper.  On 
closer  examination  I  decided  to  take  it  along,  and  turn  it 
over  to  you  without  saying  anything  about  it,  either  to 
Marie  or  to  any  one  else."  Then  taking  a  little  parcel 
from  the  bottom  of  her  basket,  she  said:  "Here  it  is, 
Ingmar.  Take  it;  it's  your  property."  She  supposed,  of 
course,  that  he  would  be  happily  surprised. 

Ingmar  took  the  parcel,  without  much  thought  as  to 
what  he  was  receiving.  He  was  struggling  to  ward  off  the 
bitter  regrets  that  were  stealing  in  on  him. 

"If  Gertrude  only  knew  how  bewitching  she  is  when  she's 
so  sweet  and  gentle !  It  would  have  been  better  for  me  had 
she  come  to  upbraid  me.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  glad  that 
she  is  as  she  is,"  he  thought,  "but  I'm  not.  It  seems  as  if 
she  were  grateful  to  me  for  having  failed  her." 

"Ingmar,"  said  Gertrude,  in  a  tone  that  finally  made 
him  understand  that  she  had  something  very  important  to 
tell  him.  "When  Elof  lay  sick  at  the  Ingmar  Farm,  he 
must  have  used  that  very  pillow." 

She  took  the  parcel  from  Ingmar  and  opened  it. 
Then  she  counted  out  twenty  crisp,  new  bank  notes,  each 
of  which  was  a  thousand-krona  bill.  Holding  the  money 
in  front  of  his  eyes,  she  said : 

"Look,  Ingmar!  here's  every  krona  of  your  inheritance 
money.  It  was  Elof,  of  course,  who  hid  it  in  the  pillow!" 


314  JERUSALEM 

Ingmar  heard  what  she  said,  and  he  saw  the  bank  notes 
— but  he  saw  and  heard  as  in  a  daze.  Gertrude  placed  the 
money  in  his  hand,  but  his  fingers  would  not  close  over  it, 
and  it  fell  to  the  ground.  Then  Gertrude  picked  it  up  and 
stuffed  it  into  his  pocket.  Ingmar  stood  there,  reeling  like 
a  drunken  man.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  arm,  clenched  his 
fist  tight,  and  shook  it,  just  as  a  drunken  man  might  have 
done.  "  My  God !  My  God ! "  he  groaned. 

Indeed,  he  wished  that  he  could  have  had  a  word  with 
our  Lord,  could  have  asked  Him  why  this  money  had  not 
been  found  sooner,  and  why  it  should  have  turned  up  now 
when  it  was  not  needed,  and  when  Gertrude  was  already 
lost  to  him.  The -next  moment  his  hand  dropped  heavily 
on  Gertrude's  shoulder. 

"You  certainly  know  how  to  take  your  revenge!" 

"Do  you  call  this  revenge,  Ingmar?"  asked  Gertrude,  in 
dismay. 

"What  else  should  I  call  it?  Why  didn't  you  bring  me 
this  money  at  once?" 

"I  wanted  to  wait  until  the  day  of  your  wedding." 

"If  you  had  only  come  before,  I'm  sure  I  could  have 
bought  back  the  farm  from  Berger  Sven  Persson,  and  then 
I  would  have  married  you." 

"Yes,  I  knew  that." 

"And  yet  you  come  on  my  wedding  day,  when  it's  too 
late!" 

"It  would  have  been  too  late  in  any  case,  Ingmar.  It 
was  too  late  a  week  ago,  it  is  too  late  now,  and  it  will  be  too 
late  forever." 


GERTRUDE  315 

Ingmar  had  again  sunk  down  on  the  stone.  He  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands  and  wailed: 

"And  I  thought  there  was  no  help  for  it!  I  believed 
that  no  power  on  earth  could  have  altered  this;  but  now  I 
find  that  there  was  a  way  out,  that  we  might  all  have  been 
happy." 

"Understand  one  thing,  Ingmar:  when  I  found  the 
money,  I  knew  at  once  that  it  would  be  the  kind  of  help  to 
us  that  you  say.  But  it  was  no  temptation  to  me — no, 
not  for  a  second;  for  I  belong  to  another." 

"You  should  have  kept  it  yourself!"  cried  Ingmar.  "I 
feel  as  if  a  wolf  were  gnawing  at  my  heart.  So  long  as  I 
believed  there  was  no  other  course  open  to  me,  it  wasn't  so 
bad;  but  now  that  I  know  you  could  have  been  mine,  I 
can't " 

"Why  Ingmar!     I  came  here  to  bring  you  happiness." 

Meanwhile,  the  folks  at  the  house  had  become  impatient, 
and  had  gone  out  on  the  porch,  where  they  were  calling: 
"Ingmar!  Ingmar!" 

"Yes,  and  there's  the  bride,  too,  waiting  for  me!"  he 
said  mournfully.  "And  to  think  that  you,  Gertrude, 
should  have  brought  all  this  about!  When  I  had  to  give 
you  up,  circumstances  forced  me  to  do  so,  while  you  have 
spoiled  everything  simply  to  make  me  unhappy.  Now  I 
know  how  my  father  felt  when  my  mother  killed  the 
child!" 

Then  he  broke  into  violent  sobs.  "Never  have  I  felt 
toward  you  as  I  do  now!"  he  cried  passionately.  "I've 


3i6  JERUSALEM 

never  loved  you  half  so  much  as  I  do  now.  Little  did  I 
think  that  love  could  be  so  cruelly  bitter!" 

Gertrude  gently  placed  her  hand  on  his  head.  "  Ingmar," 
she  said  very  quietly,  "it  was  never,  never  my  meaning  to 
take  revenge  on  you.  But  so  long  as  your  heart  is  wedded 
to  the  things  of  this  earth,  it  is  wedded  to  sorrow." 

For  a  long  while  Ingmar  sat  motionless,  his  head  bowed. 
When  he  at  last  looked  up,  Gertrude  was  gone.  People 
now  came  running  from  the  farm  to  find  him.  He  struck 
his  clenched  fist  against  the  stone  upon  which  he  sat,  and 
a  look  of  determination  came  into  his  face. 

"Gertrude  and  I  will  surely  meet  again,"  he  said. 
"Then  maybe  it  will  be  altogether  different.  We  Ingmars- 
sons  are  known  to  win  what  we  yearn  for." 


THE  DEAN'S  WIDOW 


THE  DEAN'S  WIDOW 

EVERYBODY  tried    to   dissuade  the  Hellgumists 
from  going  to  Jerusalem.     And  toward  the  last,  it 
seemed  as  though  the  very  hills  and  vales  echoed 
the  plea,  "  Do  not  go !     Do  not  go ! " 

Even  the  country  gentlemen  did  their  best  to  get  the 
peasants  to  abandon  the  idea.  The  bailiff,  the  judge,  and 
the  councilmen  gave  them  no  peace;  they  asked  them  how 
they  could  feel  sure  that  these  Americans  were  not  im- 
posters;  for  they  had  no  way  of  knowing  what  sort  of  folk 
they  would  be  getting  in  with.  In  that  far  Eastern  country 
there  was  neither  law  nor  order;  there  one  was  always  in 
danger  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  brigands.  Besides, 
there  were  no  decent  roads  in  that  land — all  their  goods 
would  have  to  be  transported  by  means  of  pack-horses,  as 
in  the  wild  forests  up  North. 

The  doctor  told  them  they  would  never  be  able  to  stand 
the  climate;  that  Jerusalem  was  full  of  smallpox  and 
malignant  fevers;  they  were  going  away  only  to  die. 

The  Hellgumists  answered  that  they  knew  all  this,  and 
it  was  for  that  very  reason  they  were  going.  They  were 
going  there  in  order  to  fight  the  smallpox  and  the  fevers,  to 
build  roads  and  to  till  the  soil.  God's  country  should  no 
longer  lie  waste;  they  would  transform  it  into  a  paradise. 
And  no  one  was  able  to  turn  them  from  their  purpose. 

319 


320  JERUSALEM 

Down  in  the  village  lived  an  old  lady,  the  widow  of  the 
Dean.  She  was  very,  very  old!  She  occupied  a  large 
chamber  above  the  post  office,  just  across  the  street  from 
the  church,  where  she  had  lived  since  the  death  of  her 
husband. 

Some  of  the  more  well-to-do  peasant  women  had  always 
made  it  a  rule  to  drop  in  to  see  the  old  lady  on  Sundays, 
before  the  service,  and  bring  her  some  freshly  baked  bread, 
a  pat  of  butter,  or  a  can  of  milk.  On  these  occasions  she 
would  always  have  the  coffee  pot  put  on  the  fire  the 
moment  they  came  in,  and  the  one  who  could  shout  the 
loudest  always  talked  with  her,  for  she  was  frightfully 
deaf.  Of  course  they  would  try  to  tell  her  about  every- 
thing that  had  happened  during  the  week,  but  they  could 
never  be  certain  as  to  how  much  she  heard  of  what  was 
told  her. 

She  never  left  her  room,  and  there  were  times  when  it 
seemed  as  if  people  had  forgotten  her  entirely.  Then 
some  one,  in  passing,  would  see  her  old  face  back  of  the 
draped  white  curtains  at  the  window,  and  think:  "I  must 
not  forget  her  in  her  loneliness;  to-morrow  when  we  have 
killed  the  calf,  I'll  run  in  to  see  her,  and  take  her  a  bit  of 
fresh  meat." 

No  one  could  find  out  just  how  much  she  knew  or  did  not 
know  of  what  went  on  in  the  parish.  With  the  advancing 
years,  she  became  more  and  more  detached,  and  ap- 
parently lost  all  interest  in  the  things  of  this  world.  Now 
she  just  sat  reading  all  the  while  in  an  old  Postil,  which  she 
seemed  to  know  by  heart. 


THE  DEAN'S  WIDOW  321 

Living  with  her  was  a  faithful  old  servant,  who  helped 
her  dress,  and  prepared  her  meals.  The  two  of  them  were 
in  mortal  fear  of  robbers  and  mice,  and  they  were  so  afraid 
of  fire  that  they  would  sit  in  the  dark  the  whole  evening 
rather  than  light  the  lamp. 

Several  among  those  who  had  lately  become  followers  of 
Hellgum,  used  to  call  on  the  Dean's  widow  in  the  old  days, 
and  bring  her  little  gifts;  but  since  their  conversion  they 
had  separated  themselves  from  all  who  were  not  of  their 
faith;  so  they  no  longer  went  to  see  her.  No  one  knew 
whether  she  understood  why  they  did  not  come.  Nor  did 
anybody  know  whether  she  had  heard  anything  about 
their  proposed  emigration  to  Jerusalem. 

But  one  day  the  old  lady  took  it  into  her  head  to  go  for  a 
drive,  and  ordered  the  servant  to  get  her  a  carriage  and 
pair.  Imagine  the  astonishment  of  the  old  servant!  But 
when  she  attempted  to  remonstrate,  the  old  lady  suddenly 
became  stone  deaf.  Raising  her  right  hand,  her  fore- 
finger poised  in  the  air,  she  said: 

"I  wish  to  go  for  a  drive,  Sara  Lena;  you  must  find  me  a 
carriage  and  a  pair  of  horses." 

There  was  nothing  for  Sara  Lena  but  to  do  as  she  was 
told.  So  she  went  over  to  the  pastor's  to  ask  for  the  loan 
of  his  rig,  which  was  a  fairly  decent-looking  turnout.  That 
done,  she  was  put  to  the  bother  of  airing  and  brushing  an 
old  fur  cape  and  an  old  velvet  bonnet  that  had  been  lying 
in  camphor  twenty  consecutive  years.  And  it  was  no 
small  task  getting  the  old  lady  down  the  stairs  and  into  the 
wagon!  She  was  so  feeble  that  it  seemed  as  if  her  life 


322  JERUSALEM 

could  have  been  as  easily  snuffed  out  as  a  candle  flame  in  a 
storm. 

When  the  Dean's  widow  was  at  last  safely  seated  in  the 
carriage,  she  ordered  the  driver  to  take  her  to  the  Ingmar 
Farm. 

Maybe  the  folks  up  at  the  farm  were  not  surprised  when 
they  saw  who  was  coming!  The  housefolk  came  running 
out,  and  lifted  her  down  from  the  carriage,  and  ushered  her 
into  the  living-room.  Seated  at  the  table  in  there  were 
quite  a  number  of  Hellgumists.  Of  late  they  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  coming  together  and  having  their  frugal  meals 
in  common — meals  which  consisted  of  rice  and  tea  and 
other  light  things;  this  was  to  prepare  them  for  the  coming 
journey  across  the  desert. 

The  Dean's  widow  glanced  around  the  room.  Several 
persons  tried  to  speak  to  her,  but  that  day  she  heard 
nothing  whatever.  Suddenly  she  put  up  her  hand,  and  said 
in  that  hard,  dry  voice  in  which  deaf  people  are  wont  to 
speak:  "You  do  not  come  to  see  me  any  more;  therefore,  I 
have  come  to  you,  to  warn  you  not  to  go  to  Jerusalem.  It 
is  a  wicked  city.  It  was  there  they  crucified  our  Saviour." 

Karin  attempted  to  answer  the  old  lady,  who  apparently 
did  not  hear,  for  she  went  right  on: 

"It  is  a  wicked  city,"  she  repeated.  "Bad  people  live 
there.  'Twas  there  they  crucified  Christ.  I  have  come 
here  to-day,"  she  added,  "because  this  has  been  a  good 
house.  Ingmarsson  has  been  a  good  name;  it  has  always 
been  a  good  name.  Therefore,  you  must  remain  in  our 
parish." 


THE  DEAN'S  WIDOW  323 

Then  she  turned  and  walked  out  of  the  house.  Now  she 
had  done  her  part,  and  could  die  in  peace.  This  was  the 
last  service  that  life  demanded  of  her. 

After  the  old  lady  had  gone,  Karin  broke  into  tears. 
"Perhaps  it  isn't  right  for  us  to  go,"  she  sighed.  But  she 
was  pleased  that  the  Dean's  widow  had  said  that  Ingmars- 
son  was  a  good  name — that  it  had  always  been  a  good 
name. 

It  was  the  first  and  only  time  Karin  had  been  known  to 
waver,  or  to  express  any  doubt  as  to  the  advisability  of 
the  great  undertaking. 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS 

ONE  beautiful  morning  in  July,  a  long  train  of  carts 
and  wagons  set  out  from  the  Ingmar  Farm.  The 
Hellgumists  had  at  last  completed  their  arrange- 
ments, and  were  now  leaving  for  Jerusalem — the  first  stage 
of  their  journey  being  the  long  drive  to  the  railway  sta- 
tion. 

The  procession,  in  moving  toward  the  village,  had  to  pass 
a  wretched  hovel  which  was  called  Mucklemire.  The 
people  who  lived  there  were  a  disreputable  lot — the  kind  of 
scum  of  the  earth  which  must  have  sprung  into  being  when 
our  Lord's  eyes  were  turned,  or  when  he  had  been  busy 
elsewhere. 

There  was  a  whole  horde  of  dirty,  ragged  youngsters  on 
the  place,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  running  loose  all  day, 
shrieking  after  passing  vehicles,  and  calling  the  occupants 
bad  names;  there  was  an  old  crone,  who  usually  sat  by  the 
roadside,  tipsy;  and  there  were  a  husband  and  wife  who 
were  always  quarrelling  and  fighting,  and  who  had  never 
been  known  to  do  any  honest  work.  No  one  could  say 
whether  they  begged  more  than  they  stole,  or  stole  more 
than  they  begged. 

When  the  Jerusalem-farers  came  alongside  this  wretched 
hovel,  which  was  about  as  tumbledown  as  a  place  can 
become  where  wind  and  storm  have,  for  many  years,  been 

327 


328  JERUSALEM 

allowed  to  work  havoc,  they  saw  the  old  crone  standing 
erect  and  sober  at  the  roadside,  on  the  same  spot  where  she 
usually  sat  in  a  drunken  stupor,  lurching  to  and  fro,  and 
babbling  incoherently,  and  with  her  were  four  of  the 
children.  All  five  were  now  washed  and  combed,  and  as 
decently  dressed  as  was  possible  for  them  to  be. 

When  the  persons  seated  in  the  first  cart  caught  sight  of 
them,  they  slackened  their  speed  and  drove  by  very  slowly; 
the  others  did  likewise,  walking  their  horses. 

All  the  Jerusalem-farers  suddenly  burst  into  tears,  the 
grown-ups  crying  softly,  while  the  children  broke  into  loud 
sobs  and  wails. 

Nothing  had  so  moved  them  as  the  sight  of  Beggar  Lina 
standing  at  the  roadside  clean  and  sober.  Even  to  this 
day  their  eyes  fill  when  they  think  of  her;  of  how  on  that 
morning  she  had  denied  herself  the  drink,  and  had  come 
forth  sober,  with  the  grandchildren  washed  and  combed, 
to  do  honour  to  their  departure. 

When  they  had  all  passed  by,  Beggar  Lina  also  began  to 
weep. 

"Those  people  are  going  to  Heaven  to  meet  Jesus,"  she 
told  the  children.  "All  those  people  are  going  to  Heaven^ 
but  we  are  left  standing  by  the  wayside." 


When  the  procession  of  carts  and  wagons  had  driven 
halfway  through  the  parish,  it  came  to  the  long  floating 
bridge  that  lies  rocking  on  the  river. 

This  is  a  difficult  bridge  to  cross.     The  first  part  of  it  is  a 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS    329 

steep  incline  all  the  way  down  to  the  edge  of  the  stream; 
then  come  two  rather  abrupt  elevations,  under  which  boats 
and  timber  rafts  can  pass;  and  at  the  other  end  the  up 
grade  is  so  heavy  that  both  man  and  beast  dread  to  climh 
it. 

That  bridge  has  always  been  a  source  of  annoyance. 
The  planks  keep  rotting,  and  have  to  be  replaced  continually. 
In  the  spring,  when  the  ice  breaks,  it  has  to  be  watched 
day  and  night  to  prevent  its  being  knocked  to  pieces  by 
drifting  ice  floes;  and  when  the  spring  rains  cause  a  rise  in 
the  river,  large  portions  of  the  bridge  are  washed  away. 

But  the  people  of  the  parish  are  proud  of  their  bridge,  and 
glad  to  have  it,  rickety  as  it  is.  But  for  that  blessed 
bridge  they  would  have  to  use  a  rowboat  or  a  ferry  every 
time  they  wanted  to  cross  from  one  side  of  the  parish  to  the 
other. 

The  bridge  groaned  and  swayed  as  the  Jerusalem-farers 
passed  over  it,  and  the  water  came  up  through  the  cracks 
in  the  planks  and  splashed  the  horses'  legs. 

They  felt  sad  at  having  to  leave  their  dear  old  bridge,  for 
they  knew  it  was  something  which  belonged  to  all  of  them. 
Houses  and  farms,  groves  and  meadows,  were  owned  by 
different  persons,  but  the  bridge  was  their  common  prop- 
erty. 

But  was  there  nothing  else  that  they  had  in  common? 
Had  they  not  the  church  in  among  the  birches  on  the  other 
side  of  the  bridge  ?  Had  they  not  the  pretty  white  school- 
house,  and  the  parsonage? 

And  they  had  something  more  in  common.     Theirs  was 


330  JERUSALEM 

the  beauty  which  they  saw  from  the  bridge:  the  lovely 
view  of  the  broad  and  mighty  river  flowing  peacefully  on 
between  its  tree-clad  banks,  and  all  a-sparkle  in  the  summer 
light;  the  wide  view  across  the  valley  clear  over  to  the  blue 
hills.  All  this  was  theirs!  It  was  as  if  burned  into  their 
eyes.  And  now  they  would  never  see  it  again. 

When  the  Hellgumists  came  to  the  middle  of  the  bridge, 
they  began  to  sing  one  of  Sankey's  hymns.  "We  shall 
meet  once  again,"  they  sang,  "we  shall  meet  in  that  Eden 
above." 

There  was  no  one  on  the  bridge  to  hear  them.  They 
were  singing  to  the  blue  hills  of  their  homeland,  to  the 
silvery  waters  of  the  river,  to  the  waving  trees.  And  from 
throats  tightened  by  sobs  and  tears  came  the  song  of  fare- 
well: 

"O  beautiful  homeland,  with  thy  peaceful  farms  with 
their  red  and  white  tree-sheltered  houses;  with  thy  fertile 
fields  and  green  meadows;  thy  groves  and  orchards;  thy 
long  valley,  divided  by  the  shining  river,  hear  us!  Pray 
God  that  we  may  meet  again,  that  we  may  see  thee  again 
in  Paradise!" 


When  the  long  procession  of  carts  and  wagons  had 
crossed  the  bridge,  it  came  to  the  churchyard.  In  the 
churchyard  there  was  a  large  flat  gravestone  that  was 
crumbling  from  age.  It  bore  neither  name  nor  date,  but 
according  to  tradition,  the  bones  of  an  ancestor  of  the  Ljung 
family  rested  under  it. 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS    331 

When  Ljung  Bjorn  Olafsson,  who  was  now  going  to 
Jerusalem,  and  his  brother  Pehr  were  children,  they  had 
once  sat  on  that  stone  and  talked.  At  first  they  were  as 
chummy  as  could  be;  then  all  at  once  they  got  to  quarrelling 
about  something,  became  very  much  excited,  and  raised 
their  voices.  What  they  quarrelled  about  they  had  long 
since  forgotten,  but  what  they  never  could  forget  was,  that 
while  they  were  quarreling  the  hardest,  they  heard  several 
distinct  and  deliberate  rappings  on  the  stone  where  they 
were  seated.  They  broke  off  instantly.  Then  they  took 
each  other  by  the  hand,  and  stole  quietly  away.  After- 
ward, they  could  never  see  that  stone  without  thinking  of 
this  incident. 

And  now,  when  Ljung  Bjorn  was  driving  past  the  church- 
yard, who  should  he  see  but  his  brother  Pehr,  sittingonthat 
selfsame  stone,  with  his  head  resting  on  his  hands.  Ljung 
Bjorn  reined  in  his  horse,  and  signalled  to  the  others  to  wait 
for  him.  He  got  down  from  the  cart,  climbed  over  the 
cemetery  wall,  and  went  and  sat  on  the  stone  beside  his 
brother. 

Pehr  Olafsson  immediately  said:  "So  you  sold  the  farm, 
Bjorn!" 

"Yes,"  answered  Bjorn.  "I  have  given  all  I  owned  to 
God." 

"But  the  farm  was  not  yours,"  the  brother  mildly 
protested. 

"Not  mine?" 

"No,  it  belonged  to  the  family." 

Ljung  Bjorn  did  not  reply,  but  sat  quietly  waiting.     He 


332  JERUSALEM 

knew  that  when  his  brother  had  seated  himself  on  that  stone, 
it  was  for  the  purpose  of  speaking  words  of  peace.  There- 
fore, he  was  not  afraid  of  what  Pehr  might  say. 

"I  have  bought  back  the  farm,"  said  the  brother. 

Ljung  Bjorn  gave  a  start.  "Couldn't  you  bear  to  have 
it  go  out  of  the  family?"  he  asked. 

"I'm  hardly  rich  enough  to  do  such  things  for  that 
reason." 

Bjorn  looked  at  his  brother  inquiringly. 

"I  did  it  that  you  might  have  something  to  come  back 
to." 

Bjorn  was  overwhelmed,  and  could  hardly  keep  the  tears 
back. 

"And  that  your  children  may  have  a  place  to  come  back 
to " 

Bjorn  put  his  arm  around  his  brother's  neck. 

—and  for  the  sake  of  my  dear  sister-in-law,"  said  Pehr. 
"It  will  be  good  for  her  to  know  that  she  has  a  house  and 
home  waiting  for  her.  The  old  home  will  always  be  open 
to  any  of  you  who  may  want  to  come  back." 

"Pehr,  take  my  place  in  the  cart  and  go  to  Jerusalem, 
and  I'll  stay  at  home.  You  are  far  more  worthy  to  enter 
the  Promised  Land  than  I  am." 

"No,  no!"  said  the  brother  smilingly.  "I  understand 
how  you  mean  it,  but  I  guess  I  fit  in  better  at  home." 

"I  think  you're  more  fit  for  Heaven,"  said  Bjorn,  laying 
his  head  on  his  brother's  shoulder.  "Now  you  must  for- 
give me  everything,"  he  said. 

Then  they  got  up  and  clasped  hands  in  farewell. 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS    333 

"This  time  there  were  no  rappings,"  Pehr  remarked. 

"Strange  you  should  have  thought  of  coming  here,'* 
said  Bjorn. 

"We  brothers  have  had  some  difficulty  in  maintaining 
peace,  when  we've  met  of  late." 

"Did  you  think  that  I  would  want  to  quarrel  to-day?" 

"No,  but  I  become  angry  when  I  think  of  having  to  lose 
you!" 

They  walked  together  down  to  the  road.  Presently 
Pehr  went  up  to  Bjorn's  wife,  and  gave  her  a  hearty  hand- 
clasp. 

"I've  bought  the  Ljung  Farm,"  he  said.  "I  tell  you 
this  now  so  that  you  may  know  you've  always  got  a  place 
to  come  to."  Then  he  took  the  eldest  of  the  children  by 
the  hand,  and  said:  "Remember,  now,  that  you  have  a 
house  and  land  to  come  back  to,  should  you  want  to  return 
to  the  old  country."  He  went  from  one  child  to  the  other, 
even  to  little  Eric,  who  was  only  two  years  old  and  couldn't 
understand  what  it  all  meant.  "The  rest  of  you  youngsters 
must  not  forget  to  tell  little  Eric  that  he  has  a  home  to 
return  to  whenever  he  wants  to  come  back. 

And  the  Jerusalem-farers  went  on. 


When  the  long  line  of  carts  and  wagons  had  passed  the 
churchyard,  the  travellers  came  upon  a  large  crowd  of 
friends  and  relatives  who  had  come  out  to  bid  them  good- 
bye. They  had  a  long  halt  here,  for  everybody  wanted  to 
shake  hands  with  them,  and  say  a  few  parting  words. 


334  JERUSALEM 

And  later,  when  they  drove  through  the  village,  the  road 
was  lined  with  people  who  wished  to  witness  their  de- 
parture. There  were  people  standing  on  every  doorstep 
and  leaning  out  of  every  window;  they  sat  upon  the  low 
stone  hedges  all  along  the  way,  and  those  who  lived  farther 
off  stood  on  mounds  and  hills  waving  a  last  farewell. 

The  long  procession  moved  slowly  past  all  these  people 
until  it  came  to  the  home  of  Councilman  Lars  Clementsson, 
where  it  halted.  Here  Gunhild  got  down  to  say  good-bye 
to  her  folks. 

Gunhild  had  been  staying  at  the  Ingmar  Farm  since 
deciding  to  go  with  the  others  to  Jerusalem.  She  had  felt 
that  this  was  preferable  to  living  at  home  in  constant 
strife  with  her  parents,  who  could  not  become  reconciled  to 
the  thought  of  her  going. 

As  Gunhild  stepped  down  from  the  cart  she  noticed  that 
the  place  looked  quite  deserted.  There  was  not  a  soul  to 
be  seen,  either  outside  or  at  the  windows.  When  she 
reached  the  gate  she  found  it  locked.  She  stepped  over 
the  stile  into  the  yard.  Even  the  front  door  of  the  house 
was  fastened.  Then  Gunhild  went  round  to  the  kitchen 
door;  it  was  hooked  on  the  inside!  She  knocked  several 
times,  but  as  no  one  came  she  pulled  the  door  toward  her, 
inserted  a  stick  in  the  crack,  and  lifted  the  hook.  So  she 
finally  got  in.  There  was  no  one  in  the  kitchen,  nor  was 
there  any  one  in  the  living-room,  nor  yet  in  the  inner  room. 

Gunhild  did  not  want  to  go  away  without  letting  her 
parents  know  that  she  had  been  to  say  good-bye  to  them. 
She  went  over  to  the  big  combination  desk  and  bureau, 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS    335 

where  her  father  always  kept  his  writing  materials,  and 
drew  down  the  lid.  She  could  not  at  first  find  the  ink,  so 
looked  for  it  in  drawers  and  pigeonholes.  While  search- 
ing, she  came  upon  a  small  casket  which  she  remembered 
well.  It  was  her  mother's— she  had  received  it  from  her 
husband  as  a  wedding  present.  When  Gunhild  was  a  little 
girl  her  mother  had  often  shown  it  to  her.  The  casket 
was  enamelled  in  white,  with  a  garland  of  hand-painted 
flowers.  On  the  inside  of  the  lid  was  a  picture  of  a  shepherd 
piping  to  a  flock  of  white  lambs.  Gunhild  now  opened  the 
box  to  take  a  last  peep  at  the  shepherd. 

In  this  casket  Gunhild's  mother  had  always  kept  her 
most  cherished  keepsakes — the  worn-down  wedding  ring 
which  had  belonged  to  her  mother,  the  old-fashioned  watch 
which  had  been  her  father's,  and  her  own  gold  earrings. 
But  when  Gunhild  opened  the  box,  she  found  that  all 
these  things  had  been  taken  out,  and  in  their  place  lay  a 
letter.  It  was  a  letter  that  she  herself  had  written.  A 
year  or  two  before,  she  had  made  a  trip  to  Mora  by  boat 
across  Lake  Siljan.  The  boat  had  capsized.  Some  of  her 
fellow-passengers  were  drowned,  and  her  parents  had  been 
told  that  she,  too,  had  perished.  It  flashed  upon  Gunhild 
that  her  mother  must  have  been  made  so  happy  on  re- 
ceiving a  letter  from  her  daughter  telling  of  her  safety,  that 
she  had  taken  everything  else  out  of  the  casket,  and 
placed  the  letter  there  as  her  most  priceless  treasure. 

Gunhild  turned  as  pale  as  death;  her  heart  was  being 
wrung.  "Now  I  know  that  I'm  killing  my  mother,"  she 
said. 


336  JERUSALEM 

She  no  longer  thought  of  writing  anything,  but  hurried 
away.  She  got  up  into  the  cart,  taking  no  notice  of  the 
many  questions  as  to  whether  she  had  seen  her  parents. 
During  the  remainder  of  the  drive  she  sat  motionless,  with 
her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  staring  straight  ahead.  "I'm 
killing  my  mother,"  she  was  saying  to  herself.  "I  know 
that  I'm  killing  my  mother.  I  know  that  mother  will  die. 
I  can  never  be  happy  again.  I  may  go  to  the  Holy  Land, 
but  I  am  killing  my  own  mother." 


When  the  long  line  of  carts  and  wagons  had  passed 
through  the  village,  it  turned  in  on  a  forest  road.  Here  the 
Jerusalem-farers  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  they  were 
being  shadowed  by  two  persons  whom  they  did  not  seem  to 
know.  While  still  in  the  village,  they  had  been  so  engrossed 
in  their  leave-takings  that  they  had  not  seen  the  strange 
vehicle  in  which  the  two  unknown  people  sat;  but  in  the 
wood  their  attention  was  drawn  to  it. 

Sometimes  it  would  drive  past  all  the  other  carts  and 
lead  the  procession;  then  again  it  would  take  the  side  of  the 
road  and  let  the  other  teams  go  by.  It  was  an  ordinary 
wagon,  the  kind  commonly  used  for  carting;  therefore,  it 
was  impossible  to  tell  to  whom  it  belonged.  Nor  did  any 
one  recognize  the  horse. 

It  was  driven  by  an  old  man,  who  was  much  bent,  and 
had  wrinkled  hands  arid  a  long  white  beard.  Certainly 
none  of  them  knew  who  he  was.  But  by  his  side  sat  a 
woman  whom  they  somehow  felt  they  knew.  No  one 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS    337 

could  see  her  face,  for  her  head  was  covered  with  a  black 
shawl,  both  sides  of  which  she  held  together  so  closely  that 
not  even  her  eyes  were  seen.  Many  tried  to  guess  from  her 
figure  and  size  who  she  was,  but  no  two  guessed  alike. 

Gunhild  said  at  once,  "It's  my  mother,"  and  Israel 
Tomasson's  wife  declared  that  it  was  her  sister.  There 
was  scarcely  a  person  among  them  but  had  his  or  her  own 
notion  as  to  who  it  was.  Tims  Halvor  thought  it  was  old 
Eva  Gunnersdotter. 

The  strange  cart  accompanied  them  all  the  way,  but  not 
once  did  the  woman  draw  the  shawl  back  from  her  face. 
To  some  of  the  Hellgumists  she  became  a  person  they 
loved,  to  others  one  they  feared,  but  to  most  of  them  she 
was  some  one  whom  they  had  deserted. 

Wherever  the  road  was  wide  enough  to  allow  of  it,  the 
strange  cart  would  drive  past  the  whole  line  of  wagons,  and 
then  pull  to  one  side  until  they  had  all  gone  by.  At  such 
times  the  unknown  woman  would  turn  toward  the  travel- 
lers, and  watch  them  from  behind  her  drawn  shawl;  but  she 
made  no  sign  to  any  of  them,  so  that  no  one  could  really 
say  for  certain  who  she  was.  She  followed  all  the  way  to 
the  railway  station.  There  they  expected  to  see  her  face; 
but  when  they  got  down  and  began  to  look  around  for  her 
— she  was  gone. 


When  the  procession  of  carts  and  wagons  passed  along 
the  countryside,  no  one  was  seen  cutting  grass,  or  raking 
hay,  or  stacking  hay.  That  morning  all  work  had  been 


338  JERUSALEM 

suspended,  and  every  one  was  either  standing  at  the  road- 
side in  their  Sunday  clothes  or  driving  to  see  the  travellers 
off;  some  went  with  them  six  miles,  some  twelve,  a  few 
accompanied  them  all  the  way  to  the  railway  station. 

Throughout  the  entire  length  and  breadth  of  the  parish 
only  one  man  was  seen  at  work.  That  man  was  Hok  Matts 
Ericsson.  Nor  was  he  mowing  grass — that  he  regarded  as 
only  child's  play.  He  was  clearing  away  stones  from  his 
land,  just  as  he  had  done  in  his  youth,  when  preparing  his 
newly  acquired  acres  for  cultivation. 

Gabriel,  as  he  drove  along,  could  see  his  father  from  the 
road.  Hok  Matts  was  out  in  the  grove  prying  up  stones 
with  his  crowbar,  and  piling  them  on  to  a  stone  hedge.  He 
never  once  looked  up  from  his  work,  but  went  right  on 
digging  and  lugging  stones,  some  of  which  were  so  big  that 
Gabriel  thought  they  were  enough  to  break  his  back — 
and  afterward  throwing  them  up  on  to  the  hedge  with  a 
force  that  caused  them  to  splinter,  and  made  sparks  fly. 
Gabriel,  who  was  driving  one  of  the  goods  wagons,  let  his 
horse  look  out  for  itself  for  a  long  time  while  his  eyes  were 
turned  toward  his  father. 

Old  Hok  Matts  worked  on  and  on,  toiling  and  slaving 
exactly  as  he  had  done  when  his  son  was  a  little  lad,  and  he 
strove  to  develop  his  property.  Grief  had  taken  a  firm 
hold  on  Hok  Matts;  yet  he  went  on  digging  and  prying 
up  larger  and  larger  stones,  and  piling  them  on  the 
hedge. 

Soon  after  the  procession  had  passed,  a  violent  thunder- 
storm came  up.  Everybody  ran  for  cover,  and  Hok  Matts, 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS    339 

too,  thought  of  doing  the  same;  then  he  changed  his  mind. 
He  dared  not  leave  off  working. 

At  noon  his  daughter  came  to  the  door  and  called  to  him 
to  come  to  dinner.  Hok  Matts  was  not  very  hungry;  still, 
he  felt  that  he  might  need  a  bite  to  eat.  He  did  not  go  in, 
however,  for  he  was  afraid  to  stop  his  work. 

His  wife  had  gone  with  Gabriel  to  the  railway  station. 
On  her  return,  late  in  the  evening,  she  stopped  to  tell  her 
husband  that  now  their  son  had  gone,  but  he  would  not 
leave  off  an  instant  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say. 

The  neighbours  noticed  how  Hok  Matts  worked  that 
day.  They  came  out  to  watch  him,  and  after  looking 
on  a  while,  they  went  in  and  reported  that  he  was  still 
there,  that  he  had  been  at  it  the  whole  day  without  a 
break. 

Evening  came,  but  the  light  lingered  a  while,  and  Hok 
Matts  kept  right  on  working.  He  felt  that  if  he  were  to 
leave  off  while  still  able  to  drag  a  foot,  his  grief  would  over- 
power him. 

By  and  by  his  wife  came  back  again,  and  stood  watch- 
ing him.  The  grove  was  now  almost  clear  of  stones,  and 
the  hedge  quite  high  enough,  but  still  the  little  old  man 
went  on  lugging  stones  that  were  more  fit  for  a  giant  to 
handle.  Now  and  then  a  neighbour  would  come  over  to 
see  if  he  was  still  at  it;  but  no  one  spoke  to  him. 

Then  darkness  fell.  They  could  no  longer  see  him,  but 
they  could  hear  him — could  hear  the  dull  thud  of  stone 
against  stone  as  he  went  on  building  the  wall. 

Then  at  last,  as  he  raised  the  crowbar  it  slipped  from  his 


340  JERUSALEM 

hands,  and  when  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up  he  fell;  and  before 
he  could  think,  he  was  asleep. 

Some  time  afterward  he  roused  himself  sufficiently  to  get 
to  the  house.  He  said  nothing,  he  did  not  even  attempt  to 
undress,  but  simply  threw  himself  down  on  a  wooden  bench 
and  dropped  off  to  sleep- 


The  Jerusalem-farers  had  at  last  reached  the  railway  sta- 
tion which  was  newly  built  in  a  big  clearing  in  the  middle 
of  the  forest.  There  was  no  town,  nor  were  there  any  fields 
or  gardens,  but  everything  had  been  planned  on  a  grand 
scale  in  the  expectation  that  an  important  railway  com- 
munity would  some  day  spring  up  in  this  wilderness. 

Round  the  station  itself  the  ground  was  levelled;  there 
was  a  broad  stone  platform,  with  roomy  baggage  sheds  and 
no  end  of  gravel  drives.  A  couple  of  stores  and  workshops, 
a  photographic  studio,  and  a  hotel  had  already  been  put  up 
around  the  gravelled  square,  but  the  remainder  of  the 
clearing  was  nothing  but  unbroken  stubble  land. 

The  Dal  River  also  flowed  past  here.  It  came  with  a 
wild  and  angry  rush  from  the  dark  woods,  and  dashed 
foamingly  onward  in  a  cascade  of  falls.  The  Jerusalem- 
farers  could  hardly  credit  that  this  was  a  part  of  the  broad, 
majestic  river  they  had  crossed  in  the  morning.  Here  no 
smiling  valley  met  their  gaze;  on  all  sides  the  view  was 
obstructed  by  dark  fir-clad  heights. 

When  the  little  children  who  were  going  with  their 
parents  to  Jerusalem  were  lifted  out  of  the  carts  in  this 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  PILGRIMS    341 

desolate-looking  place,  they  became  uneasy  and  began  to 
cry.  Before,  they  had  been  very  happy  in  the  thought  of 
travelling  to  Jerusalem.  Of  course  they  had  cried  a  good 
deal  when  leaving  their  homes,  but  down  at  the  station 
they  became  quite  disconsolate. 

Their  elders  were  busy  unloading  their  goods  from  the 
wagons  and  stowing  them  away  in  a  baggage  car.  They  all 
helped,  so  that  no  one  had  any  time  to  look  after  the 
children,  and  see  what  they  were  up  to. 

The  youngsters  meanwhile  got  together,  and  held  council 
as  to  what  they  should  do. 

After  a  bit  the  older  children  took  the  little  ones  by  the 
hand  and  walked  away  from  the  station,  two  by  two — a  big 
child  and  a  little  child.  They  went  the  same  way  they  had 
come — across  the  sea  of  sand,  through  the  stubble  ground, 
over  the  river  and  into  the  dark  forest. 

Suddenly,  one  of  the  women  happened  to  think  of  the 
children,  and  opened  a  food  basket  to  give  them  something 
to  eat.  She  called  to  them,  but  got  no  answer.  They  had 
disappeared  from  sight.  Two  of  the  men  went  to  look  for 
them.  Following  the  tracks  which  the  many  little  feet  had 
left  in  the  sand,  they  went  on  into  the  woods,  where  they 
caught  sight  of  the  youngsters,  marching  along  in  line,  two 
by  two,  a  big  child  and  a  little  child.  When  the  men 
called  to  them  they  did  not  stop,  but  kept  right  on. 

The  men  ran  to  overtake  them.  Then  the  children  tried 
to  run  away,  but  the  smaller  ones  could  not  keep  up;  they 
stumbled  and  fell.  Then  all  of  them  stood  still — wretchedly 
unhappy,  and  crying  as  if  their  little  hearts  would  break- 


342  JERUSALEM 

"But,  children,  where  are  you  going?"  asked  one  of  the 
men.  Whereupon  the  littlest  ones  set  up  a  loud  wail,  and 
the  eldest  boy  answered : 

"We  don't  want  to  go  to  Jerusalem;  we  want  to  go 
home." 

And  for  a  long  time,  even  after  the  children  had  been 
brought  back  to  the  station,  and  were  seated  in  the  railway 
carriage,  they  still  went  on  whimpering  and  crying:  "We 
don't  want  to  go  to  Jerusalem;  we  want  to  go  home.' ' 


THE    END 


THE   COUNTRY   LIFE   PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


DATE  DUE 


JUN 


1973 


PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 


L 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  828  842     5 


